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With these words, he left the somewhat desolate little 

girl .—Page 30. 






" A GIRL OF 
HIGH ADVENTURE 

BY 

MRS. L. T. MEADE 

99 

AUTHOR OF “OCEANA’s GIRLHOOD,” “A WILD IRISH GIRL,” “THE GIRLS 
OF MERTON COLLEGE,” “FOR DEAR DAD,” “kITTY o’dONOVAN,” 
“PEGGY FROM KERRY,” “THE CHESTERTON GIRL GRAD¬ 
UATES,” “the girls of king’s royal,” “the 

LADY OF JERRY BOY’S DREAMS,” “A 
PLUCKY GIRL,” “THE QUEEN 
OF JOY,”ETC.,ETC. 


/ 

WITH FOUR HALF-TONE DRAWINGS 
BY CHARLES L. WRENN ✓ 


NEW YORK 

HURST & COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 


' Gr 


b 





Copyright, 1914, 

BY J 

HURST & COMPANY 


AUG 27 1914 


©CI.A380110 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

With these words, he left the somewhat desolate 
little girl. Frontispiece 

She nestled more snugly than ever into her grand¬ 
father’s arms. lOO 

Never was there anything quite so delightful as 
that ride. 207 

They did find wonderful mosses and * * * 
snow drops and even primroses. 349 







My noble, lovely, little Peggy, 

Let this my First Epistle beg ye, 

At dawn of mom, and close of even, 

To lift your heart and hands to Heaven. 

In double duty say your prayer; 

^‘Our FatheF’ first, then “Notre PereJ^ 

And, dearest child, along the day, 

In everything you do and say. 

Obey and please my lord and lady. 

So God shall love and angels aid ye. 

If to these precepts you attend. 

No second letter need I send. 

And so I rest your constant friend. 

Matthew Prior. 




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’* J tU 







CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Child Who Won Hearts. 1 

II. A Visit TO Ireland. 13 

i III. An Irish Chieftain at Home. 31 

IV. Old Young People. 49 

V. ‘T’ll Explain TO Yourself”. 68 

VI. M. Le Comte. 88 

VII. The Little Comtesse. 100 

VIII. Brown Hats and Fans. 115 

IX. The English Girls at the School op La Prin- 

CESSE. 131 

X. Thou Art Faithful AND So Are My Bees. 148 

XI. Thunder Storm. 164 

XII. Gem op the Ocean. 180 

XIII. The Pines. 197 

XIV. Starlight and Tilly. 216 

XV. I Cannot Talk Parley-vous. 231 

XVI. The Fear of the Shillelagh.247 

XVII. • Ip it Must Be, it Must. 264 

XVIII. The Green Hat. 280 

,, XIX. Le Cabinet de Beaute. 299 

XX. A Conspiracy. 314 

iii 























IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXI. The Palace of Truth. 330 

XXII. It is Joyful to Behold Thee, My Pushkeen. .. 342 

XXIII. The Glorious Softness OP Ireland. 349 

XXIV. A Pound a Day— A Picture and a Wedding— 368 




A GIRL OF HIGH ADVENTURE 


CHAPTER I. 

THE CHILD WHO WON HEARTS. 

Marguerite St. J uste was Irish on her mother^s 
side, who was bom of the Desmonds of Desmonds- 
town in the County Kerry. Marguerite’s father 
was a French Comte, whose grandfather had been 
one of the victims of the guillotine. 

Little Marguerite lived with an uncle, who was 
really only that relation by marriage; his name was 
the Reverend John Mansfield. He had a large liv¬ 
ing in a large town about fifty miles from Lon¬ 
don, and he adopted Marguerite shortly after the 
death of her parents. This tragedy happened when 
she was very young, almost a baby. She did not in 
the least remember her father, whose dancing black 
eyes and merry ways had endeared him to all who 
knew him. Kor did she recall a single fact with 
regard to her mother—one of those famous Des¬ 
monds, who had joined the rebels in the great insur¬ 
rection of ’97, and whose people still lived and pros- 
1 


2 THE CHILD WHO WON HEAETS. 

pered and were gay and merry of the merry on their 
somewhat tattered and worn-out country estate. 

Marguerite adored Uncle Jack,” as she called 
her supposed uncle. She had a knack of turning 
this grave and esteemed gentleman, so to speak, 
round her little finger. It was the Rev. John and 
his wife Priscilla who taught little Marguerite all 
she knew. She adored her uncle; she did not like 
his wife. A sterner or stricter woman than Priscilla 
Mansfield it would be hard to find. Her husband, it 
is true, considered her admirable, for she discovered 
whenever his parishioners tried to impose upon him, 
and kept the women of his parish well up to the 
mark. 

Mrs. Mansfield was really a good woman, but her 
goodness was of a kind which must surely try such 
a nature as little Marguerite’s, or Margot’s, as her 
uncle called her. Mrs. Mansfield did her duty, it is 
true, but her good husband’s parishioners dreaded her 
although they obeyed her. Her husband praised her, 
but wondered in his heart of hearts why more people 
did not love her. In especial he could not under¬ 
stand why little Margot objected to her. As a matter 
of fact, if it were not for Uncle Jack, this small girl 
would have found her life intolerably dull. She 
had managed, nobody quite knew how, to get into 
the very centre of the heart of the grave, patient- 


THE CHILD WHO WON HEARTS. 3 

looking clergyman and, because of this fact which 
she knew and he knew, she got on quite well, other¬ 
wise—but little Margot did not dare to think of 
otherwise. Was she not herself a mixture of both 
Irish and French, and could there be any two na¬ 
tions more sure to produce a child like Margot—a 
child full of life and fearlessness, of fun and daring ? 

She longed inexpressibly for companionship, but 
young people were not permitted to visit at the Eec- 
tory. She dreamed long dreams of her father’s peo¬ 
ple in the Chateau St. Juste, an old place near 
Arles, in South France, and of her mother’s people at 
Desmondstown—an old estate gone almost to rack 
and ruin, for where was the money to keep it up ? 

Mr. Mansfield was well aware of the state to which, 
both families had been reduced, but when his little 
darling, as he called Margot, liked to talk about her 
father’s and mother’s people, he invariably encour¬ 
aged her; that is, provided her aunt was not present. 
Mrs. Mansfield snapped up the child whenever her 
own people were talked of. She assured her that 
both families had gone to the dogs and did not even 
remember her existence. 

You ought to be very thankful to have an uncle 
and aunt like myself and your Uncle John,” said the 
good woman. If my John was not what he is, you 
would be nothing more nor less than a miserable 


4 THE CHILD WHO WON HEARTS. 

little beggar. See that you obey us both and do your 
best to return the great kindnesses that we show 
you.’’ 

Little Margot St. Juste found it quite easy to 
respond to her uncle’s kindness, but her aunt’s was a 
totally different matter. Mrs. Mansfield’s kindness 
consisted of “ Don’t, don’t, dont/' repeated with in¬ 
creasing energy from morning to night. 

Don’t attempt to stand on the hearth-rug, you 
bad child.” Don’t look so silly; get your seam 
and begin to sew.” Don’t stare at me out of those 
eyes of yours; you make me quite sick when you 
do, and above all things don’t make a fool of your 
poor, overworked uncle. He has no right to teach 
you Latin and Greek. Such languages are not meant 
for women and I shall tell him so, if you don’t do it 
yourself. Do you hear me ? ” 

But Margot was always coming across what she 
called last straws ” and this happened to be one. 
She was not afraid of her aunt, she only hated her. 
How she went straight up to her and stared fully 
into her eyes. 

What’s the matter with you, you nasty, rude 
little beggar ? ” 

I’m not a beggar, auntie,” replied Margot. I’m 
going to ask Uncle Jack about that. He always tells 
me the truth.” 


THE CHILD WHO WOH HEARTS. 6 

Now Mrs. Mansfield, severe as she was, had a 
certain wholesome fear of her good husband. 

You dare not repeat what I say,” was her remark. 

I—I’ll whip you if you do.” 

Then I’ll have that, also, to tell Uncle Jack,” 
replied Margot. Auntie, you had best leave me 
alone. I intend to learn Latin and Greek, and I 
won’t say a word of what you said just now to Uncle 
Jack if you’ll let me alone. See, auntie, you had 
best for your own sake.” 

Margot gave the angry woman a bright glance of 
triumph and walked out of the room with the air of a 
small conqueror. At this time she was eleven years 
of age but looked younger and not the least like the 
ordinary English girl. Her little round face was 
slightly, very slightly, brown in tint, with a brilliant 
rose colour on each small cheek. Her eyes were large, 
soft, and black as night. Her eyebrows were well 
arched and also black. She had a charming little 
mouth and quantities of thick curly black hair. 

This was the small child who, to a great extent, 
ruled the Rectory. It is true that Mrs. Mansfield 
stormed at her a great deal, but Margot was accus¬ 
tomed to her harsh words and by degrees took little 
notice of them. She was naturally very brave; she 
did not know what fear meant. She tried to do her 
best for auntie, but as auntie would never be satis- 


6 THE CHILD WHO WON HEARTS. 

fied she comforted herself with Uncle Jack. It was 
easy to get on with him for Uncle Jack and Margot 
loved each other with a great love. 

The study at the Rectory was a very shabby and 
small room, but to Margot it seemed like Heaven. 
She sat there day after day for several hours, busy 
over her Latin and Greek. She did not care in the 
least for these languages, but they ensured her being 
for some little time with Uncle Jack, and then, when 
the lessons were over, the treat followed. It was 
that treat which supported Margot through the many 
trials of her small life. 

She had arranged this treat for herself some little 
time ago and Mrs. Mansfield knew nothing about it 
Always when the last Greek verb was finished, and 
the lesson books put away on a shelf which Margot 
kept in perfect order for the purpose, the little girl 
used to skip away to' the kitchen and there coax 
Hannah, the cook, to give her two cups of tea and 
two slices of cake. With these she returned to the 
study and then deliberately locked the door. The 
tea and the cakes were placed close to Uncle Jack. 
Margot swept his books and manuscripts carefully 
to one side and then, having carefully fed him first 
with tea and cake, proceeded to munch her own 
portion. 

She was always rather quick in eating her slice 


THE CHILD WHO WOH HEARTS. 7 

of very plain cake. Then she put all signs of the 
feast away behind a newspaper, knowing that the 
cook would fetch them by-and-hye. After this she 
climbed on her uncle’s knee, clasped her little arms 
round his neck and began her invariable request, 

Now, Jacko, darling-” 

“You oughtn’t to call me Jacko, little heart’s 
love.” 

“ I like it,” repeated the child. “ I wouldn’t say 
it for all the world before her, but it makes us sort 
of equal, don’t you understand? You’re Jacko 
and I’m Margot. We are playmates, you know. 
You are not a great learned clergyman any longer. 
You are just the playmate of little Margot. Come 
along, Jacko, don’t let’s waste time. I know she’s 
out. She’s visiting all the poor people; it’s her day 
for collecting their pennies. We’ll have a whole 
lovely hour if you don’t waste time. It’s the Irish 
turn to-day; tell me all you can about the Des¬ 
monds. My mother was a Desmond, wasn’t she ? ” 

“ She was, sure,” said the Rector, who happened 
to be an Irishman himself, but was careful to keep 
that fact a secret except when he and Margot talked 
together. 

“And the Desmonds were mighty chiefs—^great 
warriors ? ” continued Margot. “ They feared nobody 



8 THE CHILD WHO WON HEARTS. 

nor nothing. All the women were beautiful and all 
the men were brave. ISTow go on, Jacko, go on.’’ 

The castle had a portcullis,” said Uncle Jack, 
and then he hurst into imaginary stories of the Des¬ 
monds, whom he hardly knew at all. 

You forget what you are talking about to-day,” 
said Margot, taking up the thread. '^As you enter 
by the front door you find yourself in a great hall, 
covered all over with armour—perfect suits of 
armour.” 

Yes, of course I forget,” said Uncle Jack, ^^and 
the hall goes up as high as the roof, and there is 
the ingle nook, where the fire is never let out day 
nor night.” 

Uever—never let out,” muttered Margot. Tell 

me about the men now. Uncle Jack.” 

Oh, bless your heart, puss, they are fine fel¬ 
lows, those Desmonds—^big and broad and with 
sparkling eyes.” 

And the chief is called ‘ The Desmond ’ ? ” 
interrupted little Margot. 

Yes, that’s true enough. It’s a very fine title 
to be sure.” 

And what sort are the ladies ? ” asked Margot. 

Bless you, child, something like yourself, only 
perhaps not quite so dark, but to hear ’em laugh and 
to hear ’em sing would make the water stand in your 


THE CHILD WHO WON HEARTS. 9 

eyes, that it would—just for the joy of it; you under¬ 
stand, Margot.” 

Yes, uncle, and my mother was one ? ” 

She was that, and the best of ’em all.” 

'Now, describe every inch of her. Uncle Jack,” 
said Margot. Begin—^begin, go on —go on.” 

Now it so happened that the Rev. John Mansfield 
was not famous for descriptions, but he did draw a 
certain picture of Kathleen Desmond which was not 
in the least like that young lady, but which abun¬ 
dantly satisfied her child. Her cheeks grew redder 
than ever as she listened and she panted slightly as 
she snuggled against her beloved uncle. 

My mother must have been quite perfect,” said 
little Margot. “ Are there any of them left now, 
Uncle Jack?” 

Any of them left, child ? Why, there is Nor ah 
and Bridget and Eileen, and there are three fine 
boys as well, and there’s ^ himself ’ as strong as ever, 
and madam, his wife, who has the finest lace in the 
county.” 

I would like to know them,” said Margot. 

Why can’t I get to know them. Uncle Jack? ” 

Because they are just too poor to have ye with 
them, my little asthore —that’s the truth of the mat¬ 
ter. You have got to stay with Uncle Jack and make 
the best of it.” 


10 THE CHILD WHO WOH HEARTS. 

But if I went for one week—couldn’t I stay 
with them for one week, uncle ? I do so dreadfully 
want to know Norah and Bridget and Eileen.” 

’Tis aunts they are to ye, my pretty.” 

Yes, and what are the names of the boys, and 
what are they to me ? ” 

Uncles to be sure, acushla machree. There’s 
Fergus, called after The Desmond, and there’a 
Bruce and there’s Malachi.” 

Malachi—that does soimd a funny name,” said 
Margot. 

It belonged to the finest of the old Irish kings,”^ 
said Uncle Jack, and he began to hum the well- 
known tune When Malachi Wore His Collar of 
Gold/' 

There now, that’s enough,” said Margot. You 
are wonderful to-day, Jacko, you are quite wonder¬ 
ful. But can’t we go to see them while auntie is 
away ? ” 

There’s no money. Acvshla machree, there isn’t 
a penny.” 

Look here, Jacko, and don’t talk about there 
being no money. These are mine—they belong to 
me.” 

The child thrust her hand into her little pocket. 

Auntie thinks she keeps them for me, but I took 
them away my lone self ages and ages back and she 


THE CHILD WHO WOH HEAETS. 11 

has never missed them. They belonged to my father, 
who was the young Comte St. Juste. See, this seal 
and this watch and chain and this necklet he bought 
for mother, and these bracelets. We can sell ’em and 
get plenty of money to go to Desmondstown.” 

Why to be sure, so we could,” said Uncle Jack, 
but you make me feel like a wicked old man, little 
puss.” 

No, no, you are a perfect darling. Promise 
faithful and true that you’ll take me to Desmonds- 
town when auntie goes away to visit her sick friend. 
She’s going in a week or fortnight and she’ll be 
away for a whole fortnight at least. I was naughty, 
last night, Jacko, and I eavesdropped when she was 
telling cook. She’s going Friday week and we’re 
going to Desmondstown on Friday week.” 

Listen to me, Margot. I can’t lie to you, child; 
it is a thing that couldn’t be. I have to stay here to 
attend to my parochial work and I cannot leave even 
if I want to, but I’ll tell you what I’ll do, little 
puss. I’ll sell just as many of these things as are 
required—not nearly all, for all won’t be wanted, 
and I’ll take you myself and I’ll put you on board 
the steamer and look out for a kind Irish lady, who’ll 
put you into the right train for Desmondstown. 
Now, for goodness’ sake, let me sweep these things 
into a drawer. I hear herself coming in. We 


12 THE CHILD WHO WOH HEARTS. 

mustn’t let a word on to her, child, and you must 
be back with me faithful and true before she re¬ 
turns.” 

That I will, J acko, you may be sure of that.” 

The treasures were locked into one of Uncle Jack’s 
drawers. The door of the study was unlocked and 
little Margot ran out into the garden. She kept 
singing in her high, clear voice, When Malachi 
Wore His Collar of Gold/' She felt beside herself 
with happiness. 


CHAPTER IL 


A VISIT TO IRELAND. 

It so happened that after his last interview with 
little Margot St. Juste, the Rev. John Mansfield 
became subject to a strange uneasiness of conscience. 
Hever before had he attempted to do anything un¬ 
derhand. He was a God-fearing and excellent man 
and was respected and loved by all his parishioners. 
Mrs. Mansfield was respected and not loved, but it 
was impossible to see much of the Rev. John with¬ 
out feeling his sympathy, and acknowledging that 
burning love for all human souls which filled his 
breast. 

Nevertheless this most excellent man was going 
to act in a deceitful way. He was going to do some¬ 
thing, and that something was to be concealed from 
the wife of his bosom. He had long felt the injust¬ 
ice of keeping little Margot apart from her relations, 
and when the child pleaded and pleaded as she alone 
knew how, and even provided means that would 
secure the necessary cash, he could resist her no 
longer. 


13 


14 


A VISIT TO IRELAITD. 


!N'evertlieless the good man was miserable. His 
sermons seemed to have lost their power. He walked 
with a decided stoop and a heavy expression on his 
face, and Mrs. Mansfield wondered if her husband, 
that most excellent John, was suddenly developing 
old age. 

Meanwhile little Margot was in the highest of high 
spirits. She was more attentive than usual to her 
aunt 

It is quite easy to be good when you are happy,” 
thought little Margot, and she sang with greater 
spirit than ever ^Y}len Malachi Wore His Collar 
of Gold/* But when she ventured to allude to the 
subject to Jacko, he desired her to husL He spoke 
with a certain severity which she had never before 
noticed on his face. Nevertheless when he saw a 
look of distress creep into her brilliant, rosy cheeks, 
he took her on his knee, assured her that all was 
quite—quite right, that his promise was his promise 
—only he would rather not speak of it. 

The Friday so full of events drew on apace. The 
house was to receive a thorough spring cleaning. 
Mrs. Mansfield would be absent exactly a fortnight. 
During that time Margot was to be a very good child 
and look after her dear, kind uncle, without whose 
sid she would be nothing but a beggar maid, and 


A VISIT TO IRELAND. 


15 


Margot promised to do her very best for Uncle Jack, 
her black eyes twinkling as she spoke. 

Mrs. Mansfield left home early in the morning 
and, the moment she had gone, Margot danced into 
her uncle^s study. 

^‘Jacko, Jacko,” she cried, she^s gone—she^s 
gone! Good riddance, say I. I^ow we are going to 
begin our fun.’’ 

You must not talk of your aunt like that,” said 
Uncle John. Are your things packed, acushla 
machree ? " 

To he sure,” said Margot. Dear, kind Cook 
Hannah helped me. She brought an old leather 
trunk down to my room and it is chock full—chock 
full, Jacko. I’m taking presents to my three aunts, 
Horah, Bridget and Eileen, and to my uncles, Fer¬ 
gus and Bruce and Malachi. I’d like well, Jacko, 
that you gave me money to buy a new pipe for The 
Desmond and something for madam as well. I 
don’t know what great Irish ladies like. Do you 
think a big box of candy would suit her when she 
can’t sleep o’ nights ? ” 

I would not buy any more presents if I were 
you, my pet,” said Uncle Jack. How, see here, I 
have managed everything. It is very wicked of me, 
but I’m doing it.” 


16 


A VISIT TO IRELAND. 


It is nice to be wicked sometimes/’ said Margot, 
witb untold fun flashing in her beautiful ejes. 

Ho, no, little one, it is wrong to be wicked, and 
I am deceiving the best of women; I feel it terribly 
on my conscience.” 

Who is the best of women, Jacko, darling?” 
inquired little Margot. 

There now, then. I’ll tell you if you’ll listen to 
me. It’s that aunt of yours, Priscilla Mansfield.” 

^^Oh!” exclaimed Margot. Jacko, your con¬ 
science is too tender. It wants some kisses. Three 
kisses on each cheek—three kisses on your forehead 
and three on your lips. How you are better, are 
you not ? ” 

Yes, I’m better,” replied Uncle Jack, but re¬ 
member, Margot, asthore, that you have got to obey 
me to the very letter.” 

Course,” replied Margot. “ I couldn’t do any¬ 
thing else.” 

Well then, you listen. You stay at Desmonds- 
town in the county of Kerry for one week and no 
longer, and during that time you’re on no account 
to speak against your aunt to the Desmonds. This 
is Priday. You will get to Desmondstown to-mor¬ 
row. To-morrow week I’ll be waiting on the pier 
to get you off the steamer.” 

Yes, uncle. I’ll do everything.” 


A VISIT TO lEELAlO). 


17 


Well, child, I have ordered a cab to fetch us to 
the railway station at 11 o’clock. What’s more, I 
have written to The Desmond to tell him to look out 
for you. I haven’t sold many of your things, my 
child, but I’ve got the price of your return ticket all 
the way to Desmondstown and five shillings over, in 
case you should want some trifies on the journey. 
Only remember that you must not waste your 
precious money. ‘ Waste not, want not ’—that’s an 
excellent proverb, Margot” 

Oh, Jacko, you are getting so like Aunt Pris¬ 
cilla. Don’t—don’t say any more.” 

I won’t, my colleen, but see! have you got a 
pocket in your little skirt ? ” 

Yes, to be sure, and I sewed up the hole yester¬ 
day when Auntie Priscilla wasn’t looking.” 

Let me feel that it is all nice and tight,” said 
the Pector. He put in his big hand, pronounced the 
pocket safe enough, and then inserted a tiny purse 
which he had bought for Margot and into which he 
put five shillings. 

Here’s your purse, Margot child, and here’s your 
money, and when I buy your ticket you must be sure 
to keep the return half safe in your purse or you’ll 
never come back to your own poor Jacko again.” 

Oh, won’t I! ” said Margot. I have feet and 
I can use them—^trot, trot, trot, trot; look J acko! ” 


18 


A VISIT TO IRELAND. 


You can’t trot on the sea, child.’^ 

I’ll keep everything safe as safe,” repeated 
Margot. I’ll do every single thing that you want 
me to do and you may look out for me to-morrow 
week on the pier. I shall know all about Horah and 
Bridget and Eileen and Fergus and Bruce and Mal- 
achi by then. Oh, shan’t I feel rich and aren’t you 
just the darlingest and best of uncles ? ” 

Bun upstairs now, child, and put on your hat 
The cab will be round in a moment” 

Margot disappeared. 

Bless her little heart,” murmured the clergy¬ 
man, I’ll just miss her terrible, but it stands to 
reason that she should get to know her own grand¬ 
parents and her own uncles and aunts. I suppose 
I’m doing wrong but I can’t help myself. May God 
forgive a weak old man. I haven’t the righteous 
courage of my Priscilla.” 

Little Margot was a delightful companion in the 
cab. She was quite as fascinating in the train, 
which bore them at last to that part of the coast 
where a steamer sped daily from Fishguard to Ross- 
lare. The old-fashioned trunk was hoisted on the 
shoulders of a sturdy porter. From him it disap¬ 
peared by means of a crane into some unknown and 
apparently awful depths. 

The Rev. John looked round him anxiously. Was 


A VISIT TO IRELAND. 


19 


there anyone on board who would take care of the 
little girl and put her into the right train for Kerry ? 
At last he came across a man who undoubtedly 
hailed from the Emerald Isle. He had bushy 
whiskers and small, twinkling grey eyes; a wide- 
cut mouth, and no nose to speak of. Uncle John 
looked at him, considered him and finally made up 
his mind to speak to him. 

He had hoped to come across a respectable lady 
of his little darling’s own rank in life, but did not 
see one. Meanwhile the stranger’s eyes twinkled 
more than ever and at last he came up to Uncle John 
and of his own accord held out a huge paw. 

How bain’t I mistook or bain’t I not, but be ye 
never Jacky Mansfield, son of Farmer Mansfield, 
bless his sowl? Why he was took years and years 
ago. Stroked he was, and the stroke was so mighty 
it took the breath out of him, and he didn’t live the 
night out. He’s all right, though—he died a good 
Christian man. Are ye cornin’ over to Ireland 
thinkin’ to see him, John Mansfield? for ye won’t, 
he’s not there. ^ It’s a poor, disthressful country ’ 
we ’as in these times, John Mansfield. You are best 
out of it. I couldn’t help noticin’ ye, seein’ as we 
stole so many wild birds’ eggs together.” 

“ Let it be,” said the Reverend John. I’m glad 
to see ye, Phinias Maloney. I’m not goin’ to Ireland 


20 


A VISIT TO IBELAITD. 


at all, but I want someone very badly to look after 
this little maid here. She^s my niece in a kind of 
fashion and IVe bad the bringing of her up since 
her parents died. She wants to go to Desmonds- 
town. You must remember her mother, Phinias ? 

Pemember her ? ’’ said the Irishman, remember 
the ^ light of the morning ’ ? She was all that and 
more. But they are in a poor way now at Desmonds- 
town, although they manage to keep together. The 
gentlemen are all for the huntin’ and so for that 
matter are the young ladies, too. Young, I call 
them, and will, while I live. Why ever should age 
be added to their burdens ? And so this little missie 
is own grandchild to The Desmond ? ” 

She is that,” replied the Reverend John, and 
I’m sending her over to see her own people for one 
week and no more. I’d take it as a high favour, 
Phinias, if you would put her into the right train 
for Kerry and see after her a little bit when she 
lands, for she is only a wee colleen—^half French, 
half Irish. You might help me that much for the 
sake of old times, Phinias Maloney.” 

Have no fear, man,” was Phinias’ reply. I 
keep me father’s old farm and have a wife and three 
fine childer. They are frettin’ like anythin’ at me 
leaving of ’em, but I had to go to get praties that’ll 


A VISIT TO IKELAN-D. 21 

yield a good harvest What did ye say the little 
miss’s name was ? ” 

Marguerite St. Juste.” 

Ah, well, I can’t quite get my tongue round 
that, but I’ll call her Magsie—^her’ll understand 
Magsie—it’s a good sounding, sensible title wid no 
foreign blood about it.” 

Accordingly Uncle John placed his pretty little 
treasure in very capable hands. Phinias Maloney 
was a very rough-looking man, but he was the soul 
of honesty and good nature, and had the highest 
respect in the world for the Desmonds of Desmonds- 
town. He went and had a chat with the captain, 
who, as a great favour, allowed him to sit on deck 
with little Margot. But Margot’s black eyes were 
brimful of tears. She was by no means taken by 
the look of Phinias, and her frantic desire to see 
her grandparents and aunts and uncles well nigh 
vanished when she parted with her beloved Jacko. 

How then, missie, we’ll have a fine time,” said 
Phinias. The wather smooth as a pond and you 
going to the most elegant place in the whole of the 
county of Kerry. I can’t make out how ^ himself ’ 
is your uncle, but there! I don’t bother me head 
wid what I don’t understand. He’s a good fellow is 
John Mansfield.” 

He’s the best man in all the world,” said Mar- 


22 


A VISIT TO LRELAND. 


got, crusliing back Her tears with an effort. He’s 
a very, very holy man, but my aunt, she’s a wicked 
woman. I mustn’t tell the Desmonds about her, 
Phinias, but she is a very wicked woman, and but 
for me, that holy saint wouldn’t live long. It’s me 
he really loves. He pretends to love her, but tliat is 
just because of his holiness. Are you a holy man, 
Phinias Maloney ? ” 

Ach, not me! ” said Phinias. “ I has enough 
to do without bein’ howly as well. My poor knees 
wouldn’t stand it” 

What do you mean by that, Phinias, aren’t you 
a bit silly ? ” said Margot. She had begun to get 
over a little of her grief and to enjoy a talk with 
her peculiar-looking companion. What do you 
mean? Speak, man,” she repeated. 

I manes this, missie asthore, Howly men are 
most found on their bent knees wid their heads 
thrown back cryin’ out to God A’mighty to have 
mercy on miserable sinners.” 

Uncle Jacko never does anything quite so fool¬ 
ish,” replied Margot. You don’t understand him, 
and we won’t talk of him any more.” 

“ I like that,” replied Phinias, when him and 
me, we took eggs out of every wild bird’s nest in 
the county.” 

Well, then, it was you that tempted him,” said 


A VISIT TO IRELAND. 


23 


Margot. “ It was a bitter, cruel thing to do, and 
you ought to he ’shamed of yourself, Phinias.” 

Lawk a mercy, listen to the hit thing,” cried 
Phinias, with a hearty laugh. “ Him and me was 
ekal in those days, though now he’s above me—no 
doubt on that.” 

He’s a holy man, and you wouldn’t have the 
right to tie his shoes,” replied Margot. 

Phinias gazed with some complacency and amuse¬ 
ment at the quaint little figure. Presently he turned 
the conversation to long and exciting talks about 
Desmondstown and the young ladies and the young 
gentlemen and old madam and The Desmond himself. 

Ye’ll have to be mighty particular when ye gets 
there, little miss. The Desmond won’t stand any 
freedoms like. He’s as proud as proud can be, 
though he’s got nothing else to be proud of but that 
he’s The Desmond, so ye must mind your p’s and 
q’s. Don’t ye play any pranks on him, missie, or 
it’ll turn out bad for ye.” 

I won’t, Phinias, I won’t indeed. I’m going to 
be quite a good girl on account of that holy man, my 
uncle. But please tell me what Malachi is like.” 

Oh,” said Phinias, clapping his horny hands 
and giving vent to a roaring laugh. There’s a boy 
for ye, if ye like. There ain’t a boy in any part 
of Ireland, from east to west, from north to south. 


24 A VISIT TO IRELAND. 

can beat Malaclii; wbj lie could sit a horse that 
would throw anyone else off its back in a twinklinh 
The horse may buck-jump, may do any mortal thing 
he likes to do, but once Malachi’s acrost him, Tis no 
use and he knows it, for there Malachidl stay.” 

And tell me about the others, please,” said Mar¬ 
got. 

Oh, the ladies, ye mane. They’re young, mor¬ 
tal young—they are babes of innocence. They don’t 
know the world and they don’t want to. Malachi 
breaks in horses for ’em, and they ride and ride and 
ride, and that’s about all they can do. Fergus, the 
wan who is to take the title after his father, is more 
severe like, but he’s a handsome lad for all that, and 
so is Bruce for that matter.” 

“ And do they all live at Desmondstown ? ” in¬ 
quired Margot. 

To be sure, and where else would they live! ” 

But they can’t be so young if my mother, was 
their sister,” said Margot. 

Phinias bent towards the little girl. 

Whist, missie, whist, mavourneen/* he said. 

We never talks of birthdays in the ould country. 
Age! We don’t know what age is. If we ever 
knew it we forgets it. We are all young—young 
as new-born chicks. F'ow then, missie, you’d best 
go and lie down, for it may be gettin’ a bit rough 


A VISIT TO IRELAND. 25 ' 

by-the-bye, and we’re due at Rosslare early in the 
morning.” 

Margot sat very still for a few minutes. 

“ Phinias,” she said, then, I have a little money, 
a very little money by me. Can I have a bite and a 
sup to eat and drink ? ” 

“ To be sure ye can; for sartin ye can. What 
’ud ye fancy now? A drop of whisky I’d say, or a 
bottle of Guinness’ stout.” 

Oh, no, please; may I have a cup of tea and a 
little bread and butter ? ” 

“ I’ll get it for ye, honey bird, and for the Lord’s 
sake don’t mention the word age in Ould Ireland. 
There ain’t sich a thing. Mind me now and be 
careful! ” 

I will,” said Margot, I’ll be very careful.” 

Presently the farmer returned with some very 
uninteresting tea and bread and butter, which he 
offered to the little girl. She was hungry and faint, 
also, for all this unexpected excitement had made 
her terribly tired. But when she offered to pay, 
Phinias shook his shaggy head. 

ISTot me,” he said, not a bit of me. I guess 
ye’ll want your money, for them colleens and boys 
at Desmondstown. This ’ull pay for some of the 
eggs that your uncle, John Mansfield, robbed from 
the birdies afore he turned a howly saint.” 


26 


A VISIT TO lEELAWD. 


So Margot ate her uninteresting meal, found the 
stewardess extremely kind, got into the berth re¬ 
served for her and slept soundly until she was awak¬ 
ened at 6 o’clock on the following morning by 
Phinias himself. 

Here we be, missie; here we be. If we are 
quick we can get lovely coffee at the restaurant in 
the station and then off we goes to Kerry. I’ll take 
ye as far as the gates of Desmondstown and don’t 
ye fear nuthin’. Be as free as ye like with Miss 
Korah and Miss Bridget and Miss Eileen, and be 
playful as a kitten wid Master Bruce and Master 
Malachi, but hold yeself in a bit with Madam Des¬ 
mond and The Desmond and Fergus, the future 
heir. There! I can say no more. We’ll be travel¬ 
ling third, forsooth, in order to make the money go, 
and I’ll be surrounded by ould friends—only don’t 
ye forget there’s no age in Ould Ireland. Kape 
that fact stuck in your breast and all ’ull go well. 
Ah, never mind favouring the stewardess with a tip 
—shure, Mrs. Mulchi, ye wouldn’t be robbin’ the 
poor orphan.” 

“ To be sure I wouldn’t, Phinias,” replied Mrs. 
Mulchi. 

Margot was now intensely excited, although she 
did feel a certain sense of disappointment at ob¬ 
serving that the grass was much the same colour 


A VISIT TO lEELAI^D. 


27 


as the grass in England. That the trees also ap¬ 
peared much about the same; and even the flowers, 
the daisies and buttercups were what she was accus¬ 
tomed to. But Phinias Maloney supplied her with 
an excellent breakfast of good coflee, bread and but¬ 
ter, new-laid eggs and honey. 

Ye’ll be wantin’ all ye can git,” he said, and 
I tell ye what I knows. Stufl it in, stufl it in, mis- 
sie, and thin we’ll take our places in the train. Ah, 
to be sure won’t thim giddy young things be glad to 
lay eyes on ye ? ” 

Do you think they will, Phinias ? ” answered 
Margot, who regarded the uncouth Irishman now as 
an old friend. Do you really and truly mean it ? ” 

Does I think it ? Don’t I hnow it ? It’s hug¬ 
ging ye they’ll be, and don’t ye repulse them what¬ 
ever ye does, and when the gurrls is kittenish, ye be 
kittenish too. Ah, well, I can’t give any more ad¬ 
vice for the present for I see several old friends 
makin’ for this compartment, drat ’em, and ye must 
hould up your head and look mighty proud. The 
Desmonds of Desmondstown! there ain’t their like 
in the county.” 

Poor little Margot endured that long and weary 
journey as best she could. It was the spring of the 
year and the feeling of spring seemed to have got 
into the breast of every individual who crowded into 


28 


A VISIT TO IRELAND. 


that uncomfortable carriage. The farmers smoked 
and talked incessantly about the lambing season and 
Margot, presently, unable to keep her eyes open, 
dropped asleep with her head on the shoulder of 
Phinias. 

She felt as though she had known Phinias all her 
life by now. At Mallow they changed and Phinias 
provided a second excellent meal, also out of the 
birds’ eggs which Uncle John had stolen before he 
became a saint. He further told the child that if 
she was in any sort of a bit of a throuble any wan 
would tell her where Phinias Maloney’s farm was, 
and he’d help her and so would herself ” help her, 
and so would the childher help her from the bottom 
of their hearts. 

Then they got into the train, which took them 
into the famous and lovely county of Kerry and 
by-and-bye, about five in the evening, they drew up 
at a little wayside station. Here a very rough¬ 
looking cart was waiting for Phinias and a small 
boy who was addressed as gossoon ” was standing 
by the horse’s head. 

Phinias was now most deferential in his manner 
to Margot. He got Hat, the gossoon, to assist him 
to hoist her old leather trunk into the cart, and then 
he whispered a word or two into the ears of the said 


A VISIT TO IRELA^q-D. 29 

gossoon, which induced the boy in question to give 
Margot many and amazed glances. 

Ye couldn’t reach to the height of her forever 
and ever and ever and a day,” remarked Phinias to 
!N’at, the gossoon. Ain’t she own granddaughter 
to The Desmond and child to beautiful Miss Kath¬ 
leen—bless her white sowl—and wasn’t her father 
a nobleman of France? You kape your manners 
tight on your head when ye look at her, Kat. We’ll 
have to drive right round to Desmondstown. The 
young ladies must be expectin’ her by now, belike, 
and thim young boys must be hankerin’ for a sight 
of her. Kow then, gee up, Dobbin, gee up! ” 

Off they started in the springless cart, up hill and 
down dale. The evening light flooded the land and 
Margot was too excited and too fascinated by the 
beauty of the scene round her to remember either 
her deadly fatigue or any little stray crumbs of 
nervousness which might be lingering in her breast. 

At last they pulled up at a tumbled-down gate. 
The last time that gate was painted must have been 
many long years ago. There was an avenue winding 
along inside and covered with weeds. Kat lifted the 
leather trunk out of the cart with reverence. 
Phinias took off his shabby hat, pulled his forelock 
and said, 

Welcome, ten thousand times, cehd mile fdiltej 


30 


A VISIT TO IRELAND. 


to Desmondstown, missie asthore, missie mavour- 
neen/' Then he bent his head and, lowering his 
voice, said. 

We must be about our business, missie, but 
we’ll put the bit trunk under this laurel bush and 
some of thim young boys ’ull fetch it for ye, and ye 
walk down the avenue bould and free, wid no sort of 
shyness in ye, and when ye comes to the front door, 
ring the bell. Most like the bell ’ull be bro!:e. 
If so it be, and like enough it will be, turn the 
handle and walk in. There ain’t no one ’ull inter¬ 
fere wid ye, but bear in mind we are all young in 
these parts.” 

With these words he left the somewhat desolate 
little girl. 


CHAPTEE III. 


AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 

E'ow The Desmond was tall, broad, and of enor¬ 
mous height. Although he was by no means a young 
man, he walked with great erectness. His hair, 
somewhat scanty now, was of a soft white. His 
beard was long and white, also, but his eyes were 
large and black and his complexion somewhat re¬ 
sembled that of little Marguerite St. Juste. It was 
of a soft brown tint and, old as he was, there was 
still a vivid colour in his cheeks. 

This ancient descendant of an ancient race was, 
however, more feared than loved. In short. The 
Desmond ruled his little kingdom with a rod of iron. 
He never allowed familiarities between himself and 
his retainers. He could scarcely be spoken of as 
affectionate, and yet he had a strain of affection 
somewhere in his heart. That affection was entirely 
bestowed upon his lost, most beautiful and most 
dearly loved child, Kathleen. Like many Irishmen 
of his race, he was reserved with regard to his secret 
sorrows. He could not bear Kathleen’s name to be 
31 


32 AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 

mentioned in his presence and never once did he 
allude to the orphan child whom his pretty girl had 
left behind her. If he had any feeling towards the 
father of the said child, it almost amounted to 
hatred. 

He could not abide, as he said once to Madam, 

the Frenchies and their ways.” 

Henri St. Juste had, beyond doubt, hastened the 
end of his beautiful Kathleen. This was his belief. 
He wept the slow, difficult tears of the aged often at 
night as he thought about her, but he made no en¬ 
quiries whatsoever with regard to the child and once, 
when Madam, in her timid, coaxing way, ventured 
to suggest that Kathleen’s child should come to Hes- 
mondstown. The Desmond raised' a shout of mighty 
anger and desired her to hold her peace or she would 
be sorry for herself. 

Kow of course Desmondstown was a typical old 
Irish place. It was going to rack and ruin as fhst 
as ever it could. There was no money to keep it in 
order. There was just enough money to supply food 
and a sort of clothing for the inmates, to supply 
Malachi with horses, which he trained, some for him¬ 
self, some for his sisters, some for his brothers, and 
the rest of which he sold, giving his father one-half 
of the profits. 

Malachi’s horses were almost the only available 


AIT IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 33 

assets at Desmondstown; for The Desmond, al¬ 
though fierce, even ferocious at times, was good- 
natured to his tenants and strictly forbade any evic¬ 
tions on his estates. He gave his sons the scantiest 
of all possible educations with the exception of Fer¬ 
gus, who was his heir. Fergus, by scraping and toil¬ 
ing, he managed to send first of all to a fairly good 
school and then to Trinity College, Dublin. Fergus 
he also supplied with suitable clothes, but he never 
thought of his earning any money. It never occurred 
to him that any of his sons should work. Debts 
abounded all over the place and Desmondstown was 
in reality mortgaged very nearly up to the hilt. 

The gardens had gone to ruin, the ancient avenue 
was more like a field path than anything else. All 
the gardeners had been dismissed. Only the stable¬ 
men and grooms and the garden boy remained out¬ 
side the house, and within there were the cook, Biddy 
Magee, and the housemaid, Grace Connor, and Peter, 
the old butler. These were typical Irish people, un¬ 
tidy, not too clean, but, as The Desmond said, all 
that he could possibly afford. 

Bit by bit, and by slow degrees, the lovely china, 
the Chippendale furniture, the coats of mail, which 
were supposed to decorate the old hall, disappeared 
in order that there might be food and wine for The 
Desmond and his tribe. There was also a quantity 


34 AN IRISH CHIEFTAIH AT HOME. 

of valuable silver, the most famous in the county, 
which followed the same fate. The carpets were 
worn to shreds, the curtains hung in tatters from 
the windows—everything was in a hopeless state of 
confusion. In fact, a more dilapidated home than 
Desmondstown could scarcely be found anywhere, 
even in that region of dilapidated homes, the county 
of Kerry. 

Nevertheless, the Misses Desmond held their 
heads high, and their brothers, with the exception 
of Fergus, were highly popular in the neighbour¬ 
hood. Fergus was grave and dark, like his father 
before him. Now and then he even felt a degree of 
sorrow at the rapid decay of the old place. But to 
work—to have it even said that the man who would 
one day be The Desmond should work—^was beyond 
his wildest dreams. He led a rather melancholy life 
therefore, taking little or no notice of his sisters, but 
often walking out with his old father, who was be¬ 
coming glad of the support of his stalwart arm. 

Now it was a custom at Desmondstown, as indeed 
it was the custom in every house in that part of 
Ireland, to let letters go their own way, bedad! 
Letters meant bills, and the best way to treat bills 
was not to answer them. Accordingly the long and 
careful letter which the Eev. John Mansfield wrote 
with regard to little Margot reached her grand- 


AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 35 

father, it is true, all in good time. But it only just 
reached him, for after staring for a minute at the 
handivriting he thrust it unopened into his pocket 
and forgot all about it. 

Little Margot, whatever she went through with 
Uncle Jack, lived at least in a fairly neat home, 
where her much dreaded aunt, Priscilla Mansfield, 
kept everything in apple-pie order. She had no fear 
but that the letter had travelled on before her, and 
that she would find her uncles and aunts, who were 
so very young, and her grandfather and grandmother, 
who were equally old, all waiting on the tip-toe of 
expectation for the little colleen. 

When Margot parted with Phinias, she felt just 
a trifle lonely, but very soon this feeling passed and 
she was only conscious of the sensation that she was 
at last in very earnest going home, but the avenue 
was long and weedy. A good many broken branches 
of trees were scattered about and, walk as fast as she 
might, she could not get a peep of the old house. As 
a matter of fact, the old avenue was quite two miles 
in length and the child was already very tired. 

There was a broken stump of a tree which offered 
a fairly comfortable resting place. She sat down on 
it and burst into tears. Her tears were bitter. 
This was by no means the Desmondstown of her 
dreams. In the midst of her sobs, however, lI.o 


36 AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 

heard the low-pitched voices of women who were 
'.ertainly no longer young. She wondered if some 
of the servants were about and if she might address 
them, but the next instant, before she could make 
up her mind how to act, the low voices ended off 
into peals of laughter, and two women appeared, 
dressed from head to foot in very coarse white pique, 
one holding the sash of the other, while behind them 
came a grey-haired and decidedly ugly clergyman,, 
who held the sash of the last and oldest sister. He 
gave her some infantile pats from time to time with 
a morsel of briar which he carried and desired her 
to hould herself stiddy, and to kape it up.” 

Oh, oh, but me heart ’ull break—Bridget, me 
heart ’ull break. Did I iver hear the like of the 
way this man goes on! Mr. Flannigan, you belong 
to the Church of Ireland, and you ought to be 
ashamed of yourself, beating a poor young colleen 
like me.” 

Hold up, Horah, don’t let him get any nearer. 
Oh, by the powers! whoever is that little pixie 
seated on the log! ” 

Margot rose with considerable dignity from her 
seat. She approached the two excited-looking, old 
young ladies. Their hair was sandy in tint and 
much mixed with grey, but their figures were slight 


AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 37“^ 

as girls of fifteen, and they were evidently enjoying 
themselves to the utmost. 

Oh, pixie, pixie, don’t come near ns,” cried 
ITorah. Mr. Flannigan, keep the pixie away for 
Heaven’s sake.” 

I’m not a pixie,” said little Margot. “ I know 
you are very young. Aunt Horah, and you are very 
young. Aunt Bridget, but I’m your niece for all that. 
I am Marguerite St. Juste. I’ve come to pay my 
relations a visit. Uncle Jack wrote a letter to The 
Desmond. The Desmond is my grandfather. Aren’t 
you expecting me ? I’m glad to come, hut I’d like 
well to be expected.” 

The two Misses Desmond stared with all their 
might and main at the pretty child, then Miss 
Bridget Desmond gave a sort of whoop and spring 
in the air, while Miss Horah laughed till her sides 
shook. 

Heaven preserve us! ” she exclaimed. You 
don’t suppose letters are ever read at Desmonds- 
town ? Oh, hut we are right glad to see you—don’t 
make any mistake on that point. We are as pleased 
as Punch, aren’t we, Bridget ? ” 

That we are,” said Bridget. Don’t hold my 
sash so tight, Mr. Flannigan, I can’t be bothered 
playing horse any more.” 

Oh, good little girls, dear little girls,” said Mr. 


38 AN IltlSII CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 

Flannigan, I’ll come in again to-morrow and play 
horses with all three of ye. But ye might introduce 
me to the small colleen.” 

She’s my niece,” said ISTorah Desmond. She’s 
the daughter of my dearest beautiful sister, Kath¬ 
leen, and there’s scarce a year between the child and 
us, that I can vouch for.” 

To be sure, ye needn’t be talkin’ about that,”^ 
said Mr. Flannigan. Why I see it in your faces— 
ye are three babies together.” 

Little Margot gave a quick sigh. She remem¬ 
bered, however, the words of Phinias and took no 
apparent notice of the fact that Aunt Korah must 
be close on fifty and Aunt Bridget forty-eight. 

We’ll take you back home with us, little ’un,”^ 
said the youngest of the Misses Desmond. “ Here, 
let’s scamper down the avenue. Good day to ye, Mr. 
Flannigan. There’s no more playing at horses to¬ 
night. The pixie is tired, so she is. Here, catch 
her under the arm, Bridget, and I’ll take her on the 
other side. How then, put out your best foot, col¬ 
leen bawn, you’ll soon be home. Eh, but it’s an 
elegant place you are coming to.” 

The tumbled, untidy sisters managed to get little 
Margot down the rest of the avenue, and presently 
they all bounded into the house, Miss Horah giving 
vent to a loud Whoop! ” as she did so. 


AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 39 

This noise brought two untidy looking men on the 
scene. 

Be the powers, now, pixie, these are me 
brothers,” said Norah. This one is Bruce and 
this one is Malachi—the finest horse-breaker in the 
whole kingdom.” 

Oh, are you indeed, are you indeed ? ” said 
little Margot, and you are very young, too, though 
you look old.” 

It’s the climate, acushla/' said Malachi, but 
whatever brings ye wandering round, and who are 
ye, when all’s said and done ? ” 

Let me speak,” interrupted Nor ah. Bridget 
and me we were havin’ a game of horses with Mr. 
Blannigan, the new curate, and a rare bit of fun we 
had out of it, too, when who should we see but this 
pixie seated on the trunk of an old tree! She said 
her name was—^whatever did ye say your name was, 
pixie ? ” 

I don’t choose to be called pixie,” said Margot. 

My name is Marguerite St. Juste, and my father 
was Comte St. Juste, and my mother was Kathleen 
Desmond, very own sister to you all. I live with a 
dear, darling, lovely uncle in England, but I thought 
I’d like to see Desmonds town, and Uncle John 
wrote to The Desmond, who is grandfather to me. 
I’d like well to see him, and there’s my leather 


40 AH’ IRISH CIIIEFTAIH AT HOME. 

trunk, which belonged to mj mother, hiding under 
a big laurel bush at the gate. I want to stay here 
for a full week and then I’ll go away. Oh, I know 
you are all terrible young. I was taught that on 
my way here. But you are not as young as I am. 
Still, I don’t mind your being young, if you play 
with me and not let that dreadful curate talk to me.” 

While little Margot was speaking, her eyes gTew 
softer and darker and brighter, the flaming red 
mounted into her cheeks and her young lips trem¬ 
bled slightly. 

I’m a bit hungry,” she said after a pause, and 
I don’t see the armour nor the ingle nook, nor the 
Are that never goes out day nor night.” 

Bless her heart,” said Malachi, who told you 
those lies about the poor old place ? ” 

They weren’t lies, they were truths,” said Mar¬ 
got. My uncle, my dearest darling Jacko, told 
me all about everything. Oh, but couldn’t I have a 
sup of milk or something? I’m so terrible thirsty.’^ 
Before this very natural request could be granted, 
a door at the side of the great hall was pushed open 
and an aged man with snow-white hair and black 
eyes entered. He was followed by a little refined 
gentlewoman, who looked a trifle nervous and kept 
on repeating, Whist, now, Fergus; the bit things 
must have their fun.” 


AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 41 

I don’t allow noise and confusion in my house,” 
said The Desmond, and whoever in the name of 
the Almighty is that ? ” 

It is only me, grandfather,” said Margot. 

Uncle John wrote you a letter about me. I wanted 
to see you so badly, I couldn’t wait any longer, on 
account of the longing that I had. I’m Margot St. 
Juste, your very own little grandchild, and I want 
bitter bad, to have a sup of milk. My mother was 
your daughter, Kathleen Desmond—and-” 

What ? ” shouted the old chieftain. 

Uncle Jack wrote to you about me, grand¬ 
father,” said Margot, who with difficulty was keep¬ 
ing back her tears. 

The old man strode a few paces into the great 
bare, empty hall. He then turned the contents of 
his various pockets out and presently came across 
Uncle Jacko’s letter. 

Here it is,” said Margot, here it is. Eead it 
at once, will you, and let me sit on your knee. I’m 
so glad you are old, really old. I don’t care for 
young people, not a bit. I know it is the will of the 
Almighty that they must be young and keep young, 
but I like you because you are old and my grand¬ 
dad. Please, please, let me sit on your knee.” 

Just at that moment another door opened and a 
tall, stern-looking man, with a strong resemblance 



42 AN IKISII CHIEFTAIIT AT HOME. 

to The Desmond, appeared on the scene. Why, 
look here, Fergus,” said The Desmond, this little 
pilcheen has come along, and she is own daughter 
to my Kathleen, bless her. Bid her welcome, Fer¬ 
gus. She shall have the best the house contains. 
Here’s your grandmother, missie, but you shall talk 
first with me. Korah, order the dressing-room next 
to mine to be got ready for her, and have a tray 
full of the best food brought into my smoking-room. 
How then, pilcheen-” 

I’d rather you called me Margot, please, grand¬ 
dad.” 

Margot,” said the old man, Margot! There’s 
no sense in such a word. There! I’ll call you 
Maggie; but you ought to have been christened 
Kathleen, after her—^her that’s gone—^her that was 
as the light of my life. Girls, stir yourselves, and 
get everything ready for little Maggie. Don’t stare 
and gape any more. The child has come to us and 
she is welcome and she shall stay as long as she 
likes. Kow, my colleen asthore, this lady is your 
grandmother, this is Madam Desmond. Girls, stir 
yourselves and get things for the child to eat. Get 
the very best the house contains and put the best 
furniture into the dressing-room. Ain’t she Kath¬ 
leen’s child? Madam, you and I and the little pil¬ 
cheen can sup together in the smoking-room. She’s 



AN IRISH chieftain AT HOME. 43 

mighty like our Kathleen, don’t you think so, 
Madam ? ” 

I do so,” said Madam, and I’m fairly hungry 
to kiss her, Fergus.” 

^^All right. Little pilcheen, you go along and 
kiss Madam six times and no more, then come back 
to me. My God, I thank thee; she’s my Kathleen 
come to life again.” 

Little Margot had quite got over her shyness. 
She was bewildered by the queer manners of her 
so-called juvenile aunts, hut grand-dad and Madam 
delighted her. She climbed willingly on the old 
man’s knee and nestled snugly against his breast. 

You are a very old man, aren’t you, grand¬ 
dad?” 

I am so, Maggie, and why shouldn’t I he ? ” 

I’m so glad,” said little Margot. And Madam 
is old, too,” continued the child. 

Madam smiled, nodded and kissed her hand. 

Yes, darling, I’m quite old; thank the Ah 
mighty.” 

Then I’m real, real glad,” said Margot. It is 
so difficult to understand old young people or young 
old people, I don’t know which to call ’em.” 

Listen to me, Margot,” said her grandmother. 

Your aunts, Eileen, Korah, and Bridget, are young 
maids in their first dawn, and so for that matter 


44 AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 

are Fergus and Bruce and Malachi also young as 
young can be.” 

Ah, but I^m sorry,” said little Margot. “ I sup¬ 
pose it is all right. I can’t stay very long, grand¬ 
dad, darling, because I have faithful and true to 
get back to Uncle Jack, for Uncle Jack is both my 
uncle and my playfellow, but while I am here I 
would like most of the time to be with you and 
Madam, ’cause I don’t like old-young girls.” 

Come, let that be,” said Madam. “ The girls 
are only amusing themselves, to be sure they are.” 
Margot was quite silent for a minute. 

Jacko was a big man, but he was not nearly so 
big as The Desmond, and she felt exceedingly com-, 
fortable nestling up in his arms, while his snow- 
white beard gently touched her little brown face. 

There’s a trunk of mine,” she said. “ It is un¬ 
der a laurel bush by the gate. Could one of the 
servants go and fetch it down, grandfather ? ” 

“ Servants, bedad,” exclaimed Malachi, who just 
then entered the room. Oh, yes. I’ll see about the 
servants. I’ll put everything as right as rain.” 

He marched out of the room. 

If it is a heavy trunk, missie,” he said, turning 
round with his laughing eyes, ye’ll want about five 
men to hoist it on their shoulders.” 


AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 45 

“ Well, that’s easily done in a big place like this,” 
he continued. 

Margot gave a contented little sigh. Madam fol¬ 
lowed her son out of the room. She thought it well 
to lend a hand in the preparation of the wee colleen’s 
supper. 

When they were quite alone together, Margot 
turned and kissed The Desmond several times. 

You are my very own grand-dad,” she said. 

Yes, push-keen, I am that,” said he. 

I am so happy in your arms,” continued Margot. 

I’ll tell you why. First, because you are so big; 
second, because you are so beautiful and old, and 
third because you belong to me.” 

Again she kissed the brown cheek; and the brown 
eyes of the man looked into the brown eyes of the 
child. 

It’s my Kathleen before she grew up,” he whis¬ 
pered to himself, before she met that Frenchman, 
drat him.” 

Do you love me, grand-dad ? ” whispered Mar¬ 
got. 

Yes, push-keen, I think a bit.” 

Will it be a good bit, soon, grand-dad ? ” 

I’m thinking it might.” 

Margot gave another sigh of intense and complete 
satisfaction. 


46 AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 

I wanted to see the house and the place and the 
young girls and the young boys and Madam, but 
I wanted most of all to see you, grand-dad.’’ 

Ah, now, that’s proper,” said The Desmond. 

Just then there was a rustling outside the door, 
and Madam came in with a little tray, which con¬ 
tained milk and bread and butter and home-made 
jam and new-laid eggs. 

Margot would not for a moment resign her post 
on The Desmond’s knee, but she allowed Madam to 
draw a little table forward and to feed her from 
there. She ate with considerable appetite and looked 
prettier than ever when her fatigue vanished. 

And now I’m going to take you to bed, my 
baby,” said Madam. 

Yes, yes,” said The Desmond. Ye’ll go off 
like a good colleen and when ye are lying between 

the sheets—the finest linen for that matter- 

Mary, you didn’t have any but the finest sheets put 
on the pushkeen’s bed ? ” 

To be sure not, Fergus, why should I ? ” 

Well, that’s all right. You run off, my colleen, 
and I’ll come and kiss you good-night, just as I kissed 
my own Kathleen before the Frenchman took her.” 

So Margot, being very weary, obeyed. The leather 
portmanteau stood in a very old and bare room, 
and Madam herself unpacked it and took out what 



AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 47 

the child wanted for the night. At last the little 
tired limbs lay between the soft Irish linen sheets 
and Madam kissed her grandchild two or three times, 
whilst big tears filled her eyes. 

What are you crying for, you darling old 
lady ? ” said little Margot. 

Fm thinking of my Kathleen,’’ said Madam. 

I’m her little girl, therefore I’m your little girl,” 
said Margot, pressing her small lips together in 
ecstasy. Kiss me, grandmother. Grandmother, 
you love me, too.” 

I do, my best mavourneen, but now I must go 
and get himself up, or he’ll rage at me.” 

Madam tripped downstairs and presently returned 
with The Desmond. He had evidently given her a 
hint to leave him alone with Margot. When they 
were quite alone together, he pulled the curtains 
across one of the windows and opened the window a 
little wider to let in the fresh air, then he came close 
to Margot’s side and kneeling down by her made the 
following speech: 

Ye need have no fear in ye, my push-keen col¬ 
leen. Do ye see that door? It opens into Madam’s 
room and mine. If you call out even a whisper 111 
be with ye. Kow say your hymn like a good child 
and God bless ye.” 


48 AN IRISH CHIEFTAIN AT HOME. 

My hymn, what hymn ? ” said Margot in some 
asitonishment. 

Why, didn’t they never teach it to ye ? What a 
powerful, wicked shame, but you are young and 
you’ll soon learn. Your mother used to say it to me 
every night when she was a young ’un. Come, fold 
your little hands and follow me with the words.” 

Margot did so. The hymn was a very baby one 
and very well known, but Aunt Priscilla had never 
thought it worth her while to teach it to the baby 
Margot. The Desmond had different views. 

‘‘ [N’ow begin, acushla machree/* 

Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, 

Look upon a little child. 

Pity my simplicity. 

Suffer me to come to thee. 

Fain would I to thee be brought, 

Dearest Lord, forbid it not; 

In the Kingdom of thy grace 
Grant a little child a place. 


CHAPTER IV. 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 

Whether it was her great fatigue or the fact 
that she was sleeping at last in the home of her 
ancestors, or the other fact that there was at least 
one dear old man living at Desmondstown, little 
Margot St. Juste slept like a top during the whole 
of that first night in the house where her mother had 
been bom. She slept so soundly that she was quite 
unconscious of the fact that The Desmond, accom¬ 
panied by Madam, entered the hastily improvised 
bedroom at the dawn of day and bent over the child. 
There was a look of positive rapture on both their 
old faces. 

‘‘ Eh, but she’s our Kathleen to the life,” said 
Madam. 

It’s the Almighty has sent her to comfort us 
in our old age,” said The Desmond. Step softly 
Madam, macree. Don’t for the life of you wake 
the bit thing.” 

So little Margot was allowed to have her sleep 
out, but when she awoke she stared about her in 

49 


50 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 


great bewilderment. Her three old young uncles, 
and her three old young aunts were collected round 
the bed. The moment she stirred, Horah made that 
sort of whoop ” for which she was so celebrated, 
and disappeared from the room. She danced into 
her father’s presence. She was wearing a pink 
dress and was attired also in a pale pink sash. Her 
hair was full of curl papers. She looked singularly 
old, hut had all the actions of a frolicsome kitten. 

The pixie is awake, father,” sue said. 

This was the signal for intense excitement. The 
Desmond desired his daughter to behave herself and 
put away some of her childishness. 

I can’t help being young, I am young,” replied 
Horah. 

You’re not; you are a withered twig,” said The 
Desmond. Find Madam and tell her that the child 
is awake. Madam will see to her breakfast; and try 
to dress like a woman of your years, Norah. You 
are nothing but a figure of fun in that pink dress 
and pale pink sash.” 

FTorah laughed, winked, showed her really white 
fine teeth and disappeared from the room. She 
found old Madam without much difficulty and soon 
a cosy breakfast was brought up to little Margot. 
She was in the midst of enjoying her second egg 
when The Desmond popped in his silvery head. 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 


51 


“ Hullo/^ he said, so here we are again/^ 

Yes, yes, and it is lovely to see you, grand-dad, 
and please come and sit close to me and send the old 
young girls and the old young boys away. Only 
Madam may stay if she likes, for she^s a perfect 
darling. Tell her—tell her to feed me. I like to be 
petted and I love really old people, but I don’t like 
old young people to call me ‘ pixie ’ and ' push- 
keen.’ ” 

With a wave of his hand, which was at once im¬ 
perative and intensely severe. The Desmond cleared 
the room of all his sons and daughters. Madam sat 
down on the side of the bed and fed Margot, who 
gave herself up to intense present enjoyment. 

I’m so happy, granny,” she said, looking at the 
old lady, and I’m so happy, grand-dad,” she con¬ 
tinued, taking the old chieftain’s withered hand and 
pressing her soft lips to it. Oh, I am so very 
glad that you are both really old. I don’t like old 
young, I don’t, really, truly.” 

I^ow you, child, you,” said Madam, don’t you 
run down your aunts and your uncles. They are all 
young and kittenish.” 

They are not Mary, and you know it perfectly 
well,” said The Desmond. The child is right; she 
is full of sense. She’s exactly like my Kathleen, 
God bless her.” 


62 


OLD YOUNQ PEOPLE. 


The fuss which was made over the wardrobe of 
little Margot could scarcely be excelled. There was 
no such thing as a modem bathroom at Desmonds- 
town, but a great tub, which was used for washing 
clothes, was hoisted into the room by two stalwart 
women. Then it was made the exact right heat, and 
Madam and her three daughters—for nothing would 
keep these old young ladies a minute longer out of 
the room—superintended the washing and dressing 
of little Margot. 

Eileen was the quietest of the three sisters. She 
was also the prettiest and the youngest. She had 
been out at what was called a barn-dance on the pre¬ 
vious evening and this was her first proper view of 
the little arrival. Eileen, when she was really young,, 
must have been very pretty. She had the deep, dark 
blue eyes of her countrywomen, and the soft dark 
hair which curled naturally all over her head. Un¬ 
like her sisters, she was not obliged to have recourse 
to curl papers and little Margot looked at her with 
her soft, dark brown eyes full of admiration. 

Her own dress was very plain, though neat, and 
Eileen chose out of the child’s belongings a simple 
white dress which she was to wear with a faded green 
sash that belonged to Eileen herself. 

You must wear it to-day, push-keen,” she said> 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 53 

as a welcome to old Ireland. Isn^t it the country 
of the green, Madam ? 

Yes, to be sure,” replied the old grandmother, 
and you might go out and pick a bunch of sham¬ 
rocks and fasten it in the front of her dress, Horah.” 

!N^orah gambolled like a veritable kitten down¬ 
stairs. She returned presently with a great hunch 
of shamrocks, which was carefully pinned into Mar¬ 
got’s white frock. 

Are ye rested now, pretty dear ? ” asked Horah. 

Yes, to be sure I am. Aunt ISTorah, and I feel so 
—so fat/' 

Poor lamb,” cried Madam, she hasn’t been half 
fed where she was.” 

Yes, but I have,” cried Margot. Uncle Jacko 
fed me fine and so did Hannah. It was a wicked 
woman who interfered.” 

A wicked woman, lawk a mercy! ” cried Brid¬ 
get. What in the world had a wicked woman to 
do with you, pixie ? ” 

I’m not allowed to mention her name,” said little 
Margot. Don’t ask me any more questions, for 
I’ve taken an oath and I won’t break it. I’d like to 
go straight to grand-dad—^that’s what I’d like.” 

“ You can’t just now, pretty dear,” said Madam, 
he always sleeps at this hour, but he’ll be up and 
about by mid-day dinner.” 


54 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 


You’d best come and play horses with us on the 
lawn,” said Bridget and i^orah, simultaneously. 

No, I don’t want to. You’ll have that awful old 
man there.” 

“ Is it Mr. Blannigan you mean ? ” asked Bridget. 

Why he’s little better than a chick newly hatched— 
like the rest of us for that matter,” she continued. 

Are you all just newly hatched ? ” asked Margot, 
looking with great curiosity at the figures of her old 
young aunts. 

“ To be sure, you’ve about said it,” exclaimed 
Norah. 

Well, I’m a great deal older than you,” said 
Margot, so I’ll let you play with the newly 
hatched chicken and I’ll go and see Phinias 
Maloney.” 

For the Lord’s sake what does the child mean 
now ? ” exclaimed Madam, a little indignant colour 
flooding her cheeks. 

I mean what I say,” replied Margot. He’s a 
dear old man—he’s not a gentleman, but I like him 
all the better on account of that, for he’s got a gen¬ 
tleman’s heart inside his skin. I’ll go and see him 
now while grand-dad is asleep—^that is, if you don’t 
mind. Madam.” 

We’ll all go, if it comes to that,” said Norah. 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 55 

Think of you picking up with Phinias Maloney, 
the roughest old farmer in the county.” 

But I don’t want to go with you, I want to 
go alone,” said Margot. He and I are great 
friends, and I slept with my head on his shoulder 
all the way into Kerry. What are you laughing at? 
Why are you looking at me as you are doing ? ” 

I’m fit to let out a screech,” said Norah. To 
think of one of the Desmonds falling asleep with her 
head on the shoulder of Phinias Maloney. It’s 
enough to make a cat laugh, let alone a human 
being.” 

Then, please, Aunt Korah, laugh as much as you 
like while I am away,” said Margot. I must be 
back in time to sit with my grand-dad. I’ve a great 
deal to say to him and the time is short.” 

It’s Sunday; you oughtn’t to be thinking of your 
pleasures,” said Eileen, who had a more refined 
voice than her sisters. Mother, she can’t go to see 
Phinias to-day, she really can’t. Put on your pretty 
little white hat, pixie, and we’ll take you to church.” 

Margot was of course accustomed to going to 
church on Sunday and after a moment’s hesitation, 
during which her little face looked very dovmcast, 
she agreed to Eileen’s suggestion. 

I’ll go,” she said, on a condition—it’s all my 
own.” 


66 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 


And what^s that ? ” asked Eileen. 

It’s that you walk on one side of me, and my 
young uncle Fergus on the other; then I’ll know 
where I am, for you talk sense.” 

Norah tried in vain to he offended, but as this 
was absolutely impossible to her nature and as Brid¬ 
get was equally the soul of good humour, the little 
party started for the small village church a few 
minutes later, Margot looking very neat and even 
distinguished between her old young aunt and her 
old young uncle. 

She sat very still during service and kept her soft 
black eyes fixed on Mr. Flannigan. Was it possible 
that he was the same person who had played horses 
with her aunts on the previous day? He read the 
service with a good deal of force and realism, and 
preached a sermon which was so full of Irish stories 
that Horah and Bridget kept their handkerchiefs 
pressed against their mouths to keep themselves from 
screaming with laughter. 

All went apparently well until the service came to 
an end, but then the curate threw off his church man¬ 
ners and devoted himself to Miss Horah and Miss 
Bridget. He was invited back to dinner by both these 
young ladies and eagerly accepted the invitation. 

So this is the pixie,” he said, his eyes fixed on 
Margot. 


OLD YOTJNO PEOPLE. 67 

No, it isn’t,” said Margot, “ but yon are tbe 
newly hatched chick.” 

Mr. Flannigan felt his red face turning redder 
than usual. 

“ Whatever do you mean ? ” he replied. 

Just then they got inside the grounds. 

Thank Heaven for all its mercies,” said Norah. 

I can let out a good screech now, and no one will 
be any the wiser. I said, Sam Flannigan, that you 
were a newly-hatched chicken, when she was taunt¬ 
ing me about your age, man. Oh, isn’t it fun? I 
never enjoyed myself so much in my life.” 

“ Nor did I, for that matter,” cried Bridget. 

It’s a pity it is Sunday, for we can’t play horses.” 

“ Do let’s walk a little faster. Uncle Fergus,” said 
Margot turning to her uncle. 

His grave face looked at her searchingly, then he 
said in a quiet tone, 

“ The avenue is a bit too long for a wee thing 
like you. See, I’m going to stoop. Put your arms 
round my neck, so. Now, then, hold tight. I have 
you on my shoulder as firm as can be.” 

Oh, thank you, thank you,” said Margot. I 
do like you. Uncle Fergus, and I like Eileen.” 

But why don’t you like the others ? They are 
harmless enough, poor bit things.” 

Yes, but they were not hatched yesterday,” said 


58 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 


Margot. That I do know and I won’t play horses 
with that horrid Mr. Flannigan! ” 

Malachi is fit to tear his hair,” exclaimed Fer¬ 
gus. He has just sent off a stud of horses to 
Dublin for sale, so there isn’t one he can offer ye 
to ride.” 

I like you very much as a horse, UnCie Fergus,” 
said Margot. 

Do ye now ? Well, that’s all right.” 

Did you love my mother. Uncle Fergus ? ” 

To be sure, hut we don’t talk of her.” 

Why not, why ever not ? ” 

Because it hurts the old man; we have to be 
very careful about the old man. You listen, child, 
mavourneen. He never got over her marrying a 
Frenchy.” 

But my father had a title, he was Comte St. 
J uste.” 

As if that mattered,” said Fergus, in a tone of 
violent contempt. A title indeed, the Lord pre¬ 
serve us! The Desmonds don’t want any title 
greater than their own.” 

“ Is it very high up. Uncle Fergus? ” 

High up ? The stars couldn’t reach it. There 
isn’t a royal Duke in England we’d change with.” 

Isn’t there ? I didn’t know,” said Margot. She 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 59 

spoke in a very soft, interested voice. And some 
day you’ll have it,” she said. 

Yes; hut for the Lord’s sake don’t mention the 
awful time when the old man is took from us.” 

Oh, Uncle Fergus, I do love you,” said Margot 
and she bent down and kissed him on his brow. 

It was two or three days later that The Desmond 
and his son, Fergus, had a long and important con¬ 
versation behind locked doors. I’m willing to do 
my share,” said Fergus Desmond. 

I knew you were, my hoy. You have never dis¬ 
appointed me yet.” 

And I won’t begin now, father,” said the son. 

We can’t let her go,” said The Desmond, that’s 
the thing.” 

“ I see your heart is set on her,” remarked Fergus. 

Set on her! It is fastened on her like a vise. 
I don’t know myself since she came to the place. 
She’s her blessed mother back again. Who is that 
man who has the charge of her, Fergus? Is he her 
uncle at all, at all ? ” 

She seems very fond of him,” said Fergus, but 
I don’t see how he can be her uncle. He has taken 
very good care of her all these years, and never 
asked us for so much as a penny.” 

I tell you what it is, Fergus,” said The Des- 


60 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 


mond. You must go across the water and see the 
man and put it straight to him that we can’t give 
her up.” 

I don’t see how I can exactly do that, father,” 
said Fergus; he’s had her since she was a babe and 
maybe she is as much to him as she is to us.” 

“ Fergus, you talk folly. Is The Desmond’s 
heart to he broken because of a common sort of chap 
like John Mansfield ? ” 

We must act fair,” said Fergus, and what’s 
more, if we adopt her, we must adopt her properly. 
She must be schooled. She must be treated like the 
lady she is. We don’t want any more Horahs and 
Bridgets in the house.” 

no; of course not, of course not,” said The 
Desmond. 

She must be taught,” said Fergus Desmond, 
and the teaching will cost money, a sight of money. 
I know a lady who’d do it,” he continued. Miss 
Drusilla McNab—she has got fine learning entirely, 
foreign languages and all else, and she can play the 
piano and sing to make your heart burst. I might 
manage to settle it with her if we paid her properly, 
but we can’t have one of the Desmonds disgracing 
herself and us by eating the bread of charity.” 

“ How old is Drusilla McHab ? ” asked The Des¬ 
mond. 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 


61 


She’s thirty-five, father, and she lives at Rock¬ 
ingham, and Malachi could drive the kiddie over 
there each morning and fetch her back in the even¬ 
ing. But we couldn’t offer Miss Drusilla less than 
£20 a year. We couldn’t in all decency.” 

“ Oh, Lord! ” exclaimed The Desmond. Twenty 
pounds, when we have scarcely got so many pence. 
Can’t you and I teach the hit thing, Fergus? ” 

'Noj we can’t,” said Fergus. She must be 
taught properly and like a real, out-and-out lady. 
Miss Mc^^ah was educated in Paris and the push- 
keen is going to he a wonderful beauty. She must 
be taught according to her station. She’ll make a 
fine match some day.” 

I want her to stay with me,” said The Desmond. 

I don’t wish for any of those fine matches for the 
pretty dear.” 

Well, it will come, father; for she is the hand¬ 
somest little girl I ever looked at.” 

And why not,” said old Desmond, his eyes flash¬ 
ing a sort of blue fire. Isn’t she her mother’s 
child?” 

Yes, but she is better-looking than Kathleen. 
Don’t fret, old man, accept the fact. She has got a 
look of our Kathleen, but she must take after her 
father, too. She doesn’t get those eyes only from 


62 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 


our KatWeen. Why, they look as though you could 
never reach to the hack of them.’’ 

To be sure,” said The Desmond. Well, I can’t 
part with her; that’s plain. I’m alive all over again, 
and quite young with the thought of having her in 
the house.” 

It’ll take money to settle this matter, father,” 
said Fergus. If this John Mansfield is her real 
uncle, he mayn’t want to give her up, and he can’t 
be forced to give her up. It strikes me we’ll have to 
pay him. Money settles most difficulties. How my 
notion is this. You have turned against the Comte 
St. Juste, although you never clapped eyes on him. 
When our Kathleen took him for better or worse, 
you said you wouldn’t see him or write to him or 
have anything to do with him. Then our girleen died 
after giving birth to the little one and then the poor 
Comte died, also, and you never breathed the name, 
never once, of the little colleen. But she came to 
you of her own accord and you have lost your heart 
to her.” 

Lost my heart! I tell you, Fergus, my man, 
I’m mad about her.” 

^^Well, then, we must get some one in to settle 
this question. I’ll go by this very night’s mail to 
John Mansfield and then, it strikes me—hold your¬ 
self in now, father, don’t burst out. It strikes me 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 


63 


I might go on to those French people and perhaps 
they’d help their son’s child. You must keep her 
here by hook or by crook until I get back. I’ll get 
the address of the French people from John Mans¬ 
field.” 

But we don’t even know Mansfield’s address,” 
muttered The Desmond. 

Oh, I see my way to that,” said Fergus. Will 
you put the matter into my hands, father, and I’ll 
do my level best. There’s that nice little farm of 
Cromartie’s. We can mortgage that by-and-bye to 
get the little bit dear a dowry, but that’s for the 
future. I’d do anything on earth to please you, dad, 
and Miss Drusilla McHab can turn the wee colleen 
into a fine lady. I’m thinking that between John 
Mansfield and those French folks I’ll manage some¬ 
thing. Can you give me that old gold watch, father, 
and a couple of pound notes just to take me to 
Dublin. That’s all the money I’ll ask for the 
present.” 

The interview ended by The Desmond putting two 
very crumpled and as a matter of fact very dirty 
one pound notes into Fergus’ hand. He then gave 
him the old gold repeater and told him to be as quick 
a boy about his business as ever he could. 

Fergus said as he was leaving the room, How, 
look you here, old man, this is a scheme between you 


64 OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 

and me and neither Madam herself nor the three 
girls, nor the hoys, Bruce and Malachi, are to know 
anything whatsoever about it. If it can be done, it 
will be done, and I^m the boy to do it.” 

Whist, lad,” said his father, where are you off 
to now ? ” 

You leave it to me, father, I must manage in 
my own way.” 

The Desmond sank back into his chair, his dark 
eyes deep and lustrous and a smile playing round 
his lips. 

If only Fergus could succeed, if only he might 
keep the little mavourneen. He closed his eyes and 
slowly two tears fell over his wrinkled cheeks. He 
was thinking of a possible joy and of a past grief, 
but Fergus was the boy—there wasn’t his like in the 
county. 

Meanwhile Fergus made his way out by the back¬ 
yard, crossed a tumbled-down stile without anyone 
noticing him and made his way in a bee line to the 
farm which was rented by Phinias Maloney. 

Phinias was one of his father’s best tenants and 
accordingly was entitled to a certain degree of re¬ 
spect. He never bothered about repairs either, and 
although the farm was going to ruin, he paid his 
rent each quarter-day like a man, and never asked 
for improvements. 


OLD YOUITG PEOPLE. 


65 


What did a little drop of wather matter,” he 
said to Herself,” when the rain poured in through 
the badly thatched roof, and whyever should they 
be botherin’ theirselves about filling up gaps and such 
like. Wasn’t The Desmond as bad off as himself 
and was he goin’ to ruin The Desmond, not he! The 
gaps were mighty convanient for the young chickens 
and young ducklings to run in and out of the house 
and to take shelter when it rained hard on the roof 
of the old barn.” 

Yes, the farm was good enough for Phinias, if 
Desmondstown was good enough for The Desmond, 
and ^^Herself” must hold her chatter for he wasn’t 
going to ask for what couldn’t be done. 

Thus the days went by and the weeks went by 
and Phinias was perfectly happy in the broken-down 
farm, but his delight knew no bounds when on a 
certain morning a little figure stepped lightly across 
the badly-kept yard, which was full of holes and 
numerous little pools of water in which young 
ducklings disported themselves. 

Why, if it isn’t the little missie herself,” cried 
Phinias. He strode out to meet Margot, who put 
her little cool hand into his. 

Oh, oh, Mr. Phinias Maloney, I couldn’t get 
away a day sooner. I love The Desmond like mad 
and Madam and Fergus, but I don’t care for the 


66 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 


young old girls—only Aunt Eileen isn’t so bad as the 
other two. They said they was only hatched about 
yesterday. When was you hatched, Mr. Phinias 
Maloney? You look miles younger than they do.” 

Ah, whist, my little acusJila machree/' said the 
farmer, kape it up to thim that they are young 
and you’ll be as happy as the day is long.” 

But I don’t want to. I like Aunt Eileen toler¬ 
able, and I love Uncle Fergus and I dote on my 
grand-dad and Madam. Oh, I say, I had to run 
away to come to you, Phinias, and there is Uncle 
Fergus coming in at the gate.” 

Do you want to hide from him, pretty one ? ” 
said Phinias. 

Is it I that would hide ? ” said little Margot. 

That’s not me. Hullo, Uncle Fergus. I ran away 
this morning, all my lonesome, to have a talk with 
dear Phinias.” 

Fergus Desmond looked decidedly annoyed, but 
the frown quickly swept from his brow. 

Phinias,” he said, turning to the man, I want 
to have a few words in private with you. Take little 
missie in and introduce her to ^ Herself ’ and the 
youngest baby.” 

Oh, a baby! ” cried Margot. When —when 
was it hatched ? Does it look as old as young Aunt 
Horah?” 


OLD YOUNG PEOPLE. 


67 


Whist, whist, missie darlint, come this way,’’ 
said Phiuias. 

He took the little hand and led the child into 
the tumble-down kitchen. 

Ho remarks,” he said, if you please,” dropping 
his voice to a whisper and introducing the little girl 
to Herself,” a handsome blue-eyed young woman 
of the true Kerry type of beauty. The place is 
a bit shook up, I’m not goin’ for to deny it; but 
neither will I let The Desmond be bothered puttin’ 
it right. How there’s a straight tip for you, little 
missie. Annie, mavourneen, here’s a swate little 
lady from Desmondstown, who I brought across the 
say all the way from England. She has come to pay 
us a call, kape her with yourself, Annie. I’ll be back 
again in a twinklin’. ” 

When was the last baby hatched ? ” said Margot. 

Bless your heart, little missie,” said Mrs. 
Maloney, we don’t talk of childer as hatched. He’s 
two months old. I’ve called him Phinias after his 
dadda.” 

Oh, oh, let me hold him,” said little Margot, 
oh, oh, I’m so glad he wasn’t hatched. My aun¬ 
ties are hatched about every second day and it makes 
them so terrible young, and so, so queer. Isn’t he a 
perfect darling? May I kiss him, Mrs. Phinias^— 
’cause I’m so fond of your husband.” 

Bless you, pretty one, to be sure you may.” 


CHAPTEK V. 


i'll explain to yourself.” 

While little Margot and Herself ” were en¬ 
grossed over the two-months-old baby and Margot 
was expressing her intense delight that it was really 
a very young baby —yroyer young,” she said, 
raising her deep, dark eyes to the young mother’s 
face—Fergus Desmond was giving way to a certain 
amount of anger. He was a good fellow, one of the 
best in Ireland, but he was eaten up with an Irish¬ 
man’s pride and he did not want his little niece to be 
hail-fellow-well-met ” even with so good a man as 
Phinias Maloney. 

A slight consideration, however, caused him to see 
the absurdity of these feelings. He had no cause to 
abuse poor Phinias, who was one of his own father’s 
best tenants. The frown, therefore, smoothed away 
from his brow and he walked beside Phinias into one 
of the meadows at the back of the tumble-down farm. 

Ye may wonder that missie comes to see me, 
sir,” exclaimed Phinias, who had been quite quick 
enough to discern the frown of displeasure on the 
68 


69 


I^LL EXPLAIN TO YOURSELF 

joung masther’s brow. Why, thin, I’ll explain to 
yourself,” he continued. She’s a little miss that 
ain’t to be seen often, and she was put into my charge 
on board the boat. Why to be sure I didn’t recog¬ 
nise John Mansfield at the first go-off, but when I 
did, I couldn’t but accept the duty put on me. She’s 
a dear little miss and wasn’t no throuble at all even 
to sphake about, only she was fair mad to get to 
Desmondstown.” 

E’ow, listen, Phinias, I want to speak to you,” 
said Fergus. Time is short and there is a great 
deal to be done. I want you to tell me, my good 
fellow, all that you know of John Mansfield.” 

All that I know, Mr. Desmond ? I know nought 
but what’s good about the best gintleman that ever 
walked. It isn’t to say that he’s middlin’ good, but 
he’s high up among the saints, your honour. He’s 
a priest of the Holy Church. Hobody must say a 
word against John Mansfield ’fore me, yer beautiful 
honour.” 

I don’t want to say a word against the man,” 
said Fergus. You just told me that he put a little 
child into your care.” 

Yes, he did, and as dacent and as purty a col¬ 
leen as could be found in the breadth of the British 
Isles.” 

I know all about her,” said Fergus. The child 


70 I^LL EXPLAIN TO YOUKSELF ’’ 

is a dear child. She is mj niece and granddaughter 
to The Desmond, but what I want to find out is this 
—how she comes to be niece also to John Mans¬ 
field.” 

Sure then, did ye never hear of Farmer Mans¬ 
field of these parts ? ” 

What,” said Fergus, stepping back a pace and a 
frown coming over his handsome features. You 
donT mean to insinuate that my niece is a relation 
of that old scoundrel ? ” 

The man took to dhrink and dhrink finished him 
entirely,” said Phinias, but his son John was al¬ 
ways a good boy, always and forever—^good of the 
good and best of the best, and how could he possibly 
be responsible for the sins of his fathers? He saved 
money and had himself eddicated—eh, fine; fine. 
He^s a mighty scholard is John Mansfield and has 
the gentlest and truest heart in the world and he 
took missie when she was a babby and reared her 
up fine and she‘Calls him her uncle.” 

Oh, well, he’s not her uncle,” said Fergus. 

Don’t be so sure of that, Mr. Desmond, your 
honour. He’s her uncle near as much as you are.” 

What do you mean ? ” said Desmond. 

I’ll tell ye, sir, if ye’ll give me time to get me 
breath. Well, it was like this. You may remember 
how beautiful, lovely Miss Kathleen went to Lon- 


I^LL EXPLAIN TO YOURSELF ’’ , Yl 

don and married a Frenchy, but nobody ever said a 
word about Miss Priscilla.” 

Fergus found himself starting. 

Miss Priscilla got tired of the life at Desmonds- 
town and she come to me one evening late, as 
sure as I’m standing here, and she says, says she, 
^ I’m going to London after Kathleen, and if Kath¬ 
leen has married, why shouldn’t I ? ’ Eh, to be sure 
I did what I could to stop her, but she would have 
her way. She wrote to The Desmond and tell’t 
him that she had married and she didn’t want no 
bones made about it, and she never mentioned the 
name of her husband, honest man. I’ve heard tell 
that she’s turned out a sharp, sour woman, but she’s 
married to John Mansfield—the best man that ever 
walked. So he’s uncle by marriage to little missie. 
It’s all a fact, yer honour, ye can’t help it. Ye must 
swallow your pride, and all I can say is this, that 
John Mansfield deserved a better lot.” 

Well, tell me this,” said Fergus after a time. 

I never cared for Priscilla—we none of us did— 
she was the eldest of the whole house, even older 
than my sister Korah, and tried to rule us with a 
rod of iron. If it hadn’t been for my father. The 
Desmond, she would have made the place unbear¬ 
able. So she took the child when her parents died ? ” 


72 


I^LL EXPLAIN TO YOUESELF 

“ She did so/’ replied Phinias. “ It was the only 
good thing she done as far as I hear tell on.” 

Listen to me, Phinias,” said Fergus, I want 
your help in this matter.” 

To he sure, to he sartin sure, yer honour.” 

Well, it’s like this,” said Fergus. Don’t you 
let it out to your wife or your neighbours. Keep it 
close within your breast.” 

I will that, yer honour. I am wonderful at 
kapin’ a sacret.” 

Well, this is the state of things,” said Fergus. 

My father is an old man and full of years, and 
Madam, bless her heart, is not too young, and they’ve 
both taken a fancy to the little push-keen. We want 
to keep her, Phinias.” 

Oh, Lord, sir; yer honour I mane, whatever 
for?” 

For the sake of my father,” said Fergus. He’s 
gone fair mad over the child, and if John Mansfield 
has got a grain of human nature in him, he won’t 
part the child from her own true grandfather. I’m 
going to see him to-night, but not a word is to be 
mentioned to little miss, and I want you to give me 
his address, Phinias Maloney.” 

Well, to be sure, I can do that fine,” said 
Phinias. Didn’t he give me his kyard when he 
put the hit colleen into my care, and didn’t he look 


73 


i^'ll explain to yourself 

nigh to weepin’. He’s an elegant man, yer honour, 
and he loves the little colleen like anythin’. There’s 
nothin’ on earth he wouldn’t do for the pretty dear, 
hut I can see that he’s mortal afraid of ^ herself ’— 
that’s Miss Priscilla that was. His address is Hand- 
ley Vicarage, Balderstown, near Earlminster. You 
won’t see much of the old farmer in the Rev. John 
Mansfield, yer honour. To look at, he’s a gintleman 
as good as yourself and with ^ the spiritual eye.’ ” 
Whatever do you mean by that, Phinias ? ” 

Ah, thin,” exclaimed Phinias, it’s given but 
to a rare few, and they lives—^well, somewhere above 
the stars I’m thinking—close to the golden gates, by 
the same token. There’s no difference between 
^ The’s ’ and Priests and Marquises and Counts 
where he has fixed his gaze, yer honour. He’s a 
howly man, that’s what he be and ^ the spiritual 
eye ’ in him is downright wonderful.” 

Well, thank ye, Phinias,” said Fergus, after 
a pause. I don’t quite understand your full mean¬ 
ing, but I want the wee push-keen for my father, and 
if I can get her I will. How, then, will you call her 
out to me, for she may as well ride home on my 
shoulder ? ” 

Ah to be sure, the pretty bit dear,” said the 
farmer. 

He entered his untidy kitchen somewhat sorrow- 


74 i^’ll explain to yourself ” 

fully. He was thinking of John Mansfield. He did 
not see—being a very upright man himself—^why 
even The Desmond should he considered, when he 
had taken no notice at all of the little ^ herself ’ all 
these long, long years, and he thought his honour, 
Mr. Fergus, somewhat cruel to drag the child from 
his own friend. 

Fergus, however, having got the information he 
required did not give Phinias Maloney a further 
thought. 

Margot, in the highest spirits, rode back to Des- 
mondstown on her uncle’s shoulder. She had by this 
time become great friends with Aunt Eileen and she 
endured the passionate caresses of old young Aunt 
Horah and old young Aunt Bridget. She chattered 
a good deal as they all ate their lunch together about 
the baby who was real—real young. 

Aunt Horah let out one of her whoops and then 
one of her screeches, but The Desmond was too much 
absorbed with his plan to take much notice of her. 
On that same evening Fergus started for Eosslare 
en route for Fishguard. He managed to find time 
to sell the old gold repeater and had in consequence 
sufficient money in his pocket for his immediate 
wants. 

Fergus Desmond did not much mind his shabby 
attire, nor his unwieldy-looking boots, nor his alto- 


75 


i^'ll explain to youeself 

gether Irish appearance. He had a goal in view and 
that goal he was determined to carry through if it 
cost him half his life. The Desmond was mad about 
little Margot and The Desmond must be satisfied. 

All in good time he arrived at Handley Vicarage. 
He enquired at once for the Eev, John Mansfield. 
Hannah opened the door for him and stared at him 
a good bit. It seemed as though Hannah, who was 
a most astute woman, was tracing out a likeness be¬ 
tween Fergus and somebody else. Who could the 
somebody else be ? Surely—surely not the bit girlie. 
Hannah was devoted to Margot and had bitterly re¬ 
gretted her visit to Ireland, but she was in all the 
throes of spring cleaning at the present moment, and 
altogether it was an awkward time for Fergus Des¬ 
mond to come. 

My master’s out at the present moment,” she 
said, but if you’ll tell me your name, sir. I’ll let 
him know if you’d like to call again.” 

I’ll wait here for him, thanks,” said Fergus, 
and I’d rather not give my name.” 

He’s a burglar like as not,” thought Hannah, 
but there was something so masterful and big and 
grave about this dark-eyed man that she could not 
by any possibility attempt to oppose him. She ac¬ 
cordingly put him into the study and a few minutes 
later John Mansfield entered the room. John Mans- 


76 i^'ll explain to yourself ” 

field was thought a tall man by his English par¬ 
ishioners, hut as he crossed the room to welcome the 
stranger, who was totally and completely a stranger 
to him, he looked small by comparison with Fergus 
Desmond. 

Fergus, however, was immediately fired by that 
curious admiration for the man himself, which all 
those who knew him felt. There was, according to 
Phinias, the spiritual eye ” very distinctly visible 
in John Mansfield. 

I must introduce myself,” said Fergus. I 
am an Irishman.” 

Ah, to be sure, sit down, won’t ye? ” said John 
Mansfield. His heart gave a thump in his breast 
Ireland for him at that moment only meant Des- 
mondstown, where his little Margot, his little treas¬ 
ure, was staying. 

And my name,” continued Fergus, dropping into 
a chair, is Fergus Desmond.” 

Not—^not of Desmondstown! ” gasped John 
Mansfield. My God, speak the truth at once, lad 
—^not of Desmondstown ? ” 

Yes, of Desmondstown, where else ? ” 

Then you have brought bad news—something 
has gone wrong with my—my little darling.” 

No, sir, nothing has gone wrong. Ease your 
mind, once and for all. The child has won the love 


77 


I^LL EXPLAIX TO YOURSELF 

of everyone in the house, and The Desmond and 
Madam they want to keep her. That’s what I’ve 
come about, Mr. Mansfield. For the matter of that, 
you are my brother-in-law, sir. You have married 
my sister Priscilla.” 

I have so,” said Mansfield, and she’s a good 
woman.” 

She’s not at home now, is she? ” asked Fergus. 

No, thank the—I mean she won’t be back for 
over a week, Mr. Desmond.” 

You had best call me Fergus, John,” said the 
other man. 

If you like it, I will, but it don’t seem fair. I 
never set myself up to be one of your class.” 

Well, never mind that, you are married to my 
eldest sister and you are a good man; I can see that 
by your face.” 

I try my best, Mr. Fergus, but we are none of 
us good. There’s a heavy load of sin on us all, and 
I’m no better than my neighbours.” 

You ask Phinias Maloney and he’ll tell you a 
very different story,” said Fergus, a grim smile pass¬ 
ing over his stem features. 

Ah, Phinias,” said John Mansfield. He al¬ 
ways had the heart of the matter in him. But tell 
me again what you have come about, Mr. Fergus. 
You don’t want to take my girleen from me.” 


78 


I^LL EXPLAIN TO YOUESELF ” 

“ That’s what I do want. Tell me truthfully, does 
her aunt love the child ? ” 

I can’t say that she does,” replied John Mans¬ 
field, ^^but discipline is good for us all.” 

Well now, listen to me, John Mansfield. The 
Desmond is getting old and when an old man sets 
his heart on a thing, it’s had—it’s terribly bad to 
upset him. Let him have all his wishes until the 
breath leaves his body.” 

Sir, why didn’t The Desmond write about little 
Margot before now ? ” 

He didn’t think of her and that’s the truth,” 
said Fergus. 

But I did think of her,” said John Mansfield. 

She’s the light of my heart—the joy of my life. 
Haven’t I trained her and loved her and taught her 
since her father’s death when she was barely two 
years of age? I had hard work to bring Priscilla 
round to my keeping her at all, but now—now she’s 
my sunshine and joy and you want to take her from 
me. Don’t you think you’re a cruel man, Mr. Des¬ 
mond ? ” 

Ho I don’t; I’m thinking that the old man won’t 
live long. I expect it is a bit of a sacrifice to you, 
John Mansfield, but you might think of the old who 
have so few days before them. And the little one 
shall have every care and be well taught and even 


79 


i^'ll explain to yourself 

have a dowry provided for her. I am sure your 
wife would give her consent, and she’s her niece— 
not yours—John Mansfield.” 

That’s true; Priscilla wouldn’t mind,” said 
Mansfield. “ She’d be glad to get rid of her.” 

Then, man, whyever do you hesitate ? You are 
only her uncle by marriage. You can’t keep her 
away from her grandfather if he wants her.” 

John Mansfield rose from his seat and walked to 
the window. He stood there for some time, looking 
out with a very steady and fixed gaze. At the end 
of that time the cloud which had covered his brow 
disappeared. Then he went up to Desmond and 
laid his delicate and refined hand on the other man’s 
shoulder. 

“ I won’t say any longer that you are doing a cruel 
thing,” he said, but if it’s a case of adoption, I 
must get Priscilla’s leave, and I must go to the 
present Comte St. Juste and see what he says about 
his son’s child being adopted by the Desmonds. If 
it’s done it must be done properly.” 

I’m willing; I’m quite willing,” said Fergus. 

Where does the Comte St. Juste live ? ” 

At a place called Arles in France. There’s the 
old chateau still standing and I’m told they are 
terribly poor, but the child belongs to them as much 


80 


IL,!. EXPLAIN TO YOURSELF 

as to you. I hear they are greedy, too; they may 
want a hit of money to give her up.’’ 

John Mansfield,” said Fergus, if you lend me 
fifty pounds you and I might go together to see the 
Comte St Juste and I’ll pay it back to you as sure 
as I am a Desmond of Desmondstown when I return 
home again. Let us start at once, my good sir. 
You’ll help me to get the little one for my father.” 

I got my quarter’s income yesterday,” said John 
Mansfield. I must keep some of it to live on, but 
I can let you have thirty pounds. I didn’t know 
when I sent my little treasure to Desmondstown that 
it would come to this. You must do with thirty 
pounds, Fergus Desmond, I can’t spare any more.” 

I’ll do with thirty pounds,” said Desmond. 

^^Very well; we’ll start for London to-night. 
This is the room where she and I were so happy to¬ 
gether. Here is the little shelf where she kept her 
Latin and Greek books.” 

My good gracious, you didn’t teach her the dead 
languages ? ” said Fergus. 

I did, for certain. She was the aptest little 
pupil you could find in your march through life.” 

I’ll have her taught fine,” said Fergus, but 
you are a good—very good man, Mansfield.” 

Don’t say that again,” replied Mansfield. The 
heart knoweth its own wickedness and its own sor- 


81 


I^LL EXPLAIN TO YOURSELF 

rows. I can’t explain what I feel and if I could, I 
wouldn’t. I’ll be ready to accompany you this very 
evening, Mr. Desmond.” 

Fergus Desmond, please,” said the future heir 
to The Desmond. 

Mansfield left the room. Fergus looked round 
the shabby little study. He took up the Latin and 
Greek books and a sense of amazement possessed 
him. If it had not been for his old father he would 
not have gone on with this thing. He felt he had 
never seen a man like John Mansfield before. Fer¬ 
gus thought a good deal of rank and old family, but 
Mansfield was above all that kind of thing. He was 
higher up. He had, in fact, reached the soul heights, 
where earthly rank counts for nothing. 

By-and-bye he came back, the colour in his cheeks 
and a sparkle in his eyes. 

I have news for you, Fergus,” he said, sud¬ 
den, unexpected. Priscilla has come home.” 

My goodness,” said Fergus, we all vowed that 
we would never speak to her again.” 

Because she married me ? ” said Mansfield, with 
a sort of angelic smile. 

Yes, we were fools. I should like to see my 
sister, and I tell you honestly, Mansfield, that I 
think she has got the best of the bargain.” 

But there is one thing I must add,” continued 


S2 EXPLAIN TO YOURSELF ” 

Mansfield. I cannot go with you to France to¬ 
night. I cannot desert my wife on her unexpected 
return.” 

There was a loud, harsh voice heard in the hall. 

Maggie, Maggie, where are you, Marguerite ? ” 
Mansfield hurriedly left the study; his firm, re¬ 
fined face assumed a somewhat slight and delicate 
flush; he drew himself up to his slender height, a 
half-suppressed sigh rose to his lips and then he dis¬ 
appeared. Fergus Desmond heard him murmur to 
himself. 

She’s a good woman, yes, she’s a good woman, 
and I—I have deceived her,” hut whether Mrs. 
Mansfield was good or had, nothing could exceed 
her wild rage and anger when she encountered her 
husband in the little narrow hall and when he told 
her, which he did firmly and gently, that he had sent 
little Margot to visit her relations in Ireland. 

I didn’t act fair hy you, Priscilla,” he said, 
and I’m more than willing to own it, hut the child 
pined to see her own people, and I—I, yes, I let 
her go.” 

The little hrat,” said Mrs. Mansfield, and 
pray what money did you give her ? She couldn’t 
cross the hriny with nothing in her pocket.” 

She didn’t have a penny of yours, Priscilla; hut 
wait, whist, I have something to say ...” 


83 


I'^LL EXPLAIN TO YOURSELF 

Whatever that something may have been, it 
was interrupted in a most startling and unpleasant 
manner, for Fergus Desmond also opened the door 
of the little study and stood in the hall. He was 
exactly three years younger than Priscilla, and 
Priscilla could not mistake him for a moment. She 
disliked all her family, but perhaps she disliked 
Fergus the most, for Fergus would never give in to 
her or submit to her scoldings, and even the lively 
Horah and the old young Bridget found their brother 
a rock of defense on the occasions when Priscilla 
rounded on them. 

IVe come, Prissy,’’ he said, not offering to kiss 
her or even to take her hand. I see you are ex¬ 
actly the same as ever. I pity from the bottom of 
my heart the good man you have made your hus¬ 
band.” 

You pity the son of a farmer for having mar¬ 
ried a Desmond of Desmondstown,” almost hissed 
the good lady. 

I pity the man you have married—I care noth¬ 
ing about his ancestry. He’s got a good bit of 
property I’m thinking in a more enduring country 
than this. But now, about the child. I came over 
on purpose to speak to you and John about her. 
My father. The Desmond, wants to keep her and 


84 “ I^LL EXPLAIN TO YOURSELF 

from what I can see of you, Prissy, you^ll be glad 
to be rid of her.” 

Mrs. Mansfield was at first so much startled at 
seeing her brother that she could find no words to 
reply, hut now. they came in what in Ireland might 
be called not only a flow but a rapid torrent. 

Ah, to be sure,” she said, that^s a nice thing 
to come and say and do. I took the child when 
she was too small for anyone else to think about her. 
I took her and cared for her and nursed her and 
trained her and sat up with her at night when she 
had the whooping-cough and the measles, and now 
that she is a strong colleen you want to take her from 
me. All I can tell you is this, Fergus, you don^t get 
her, so there! She can be of use to me now,” re¬ 
peated Mrs. Mansfield, and I won^t give her up. 
That’s my answer. You can go, Fergus. There is 
nothing more to be said.” 

But there is something more to be said, good 
wife,” said John Mansfield. I have given in—I, 
who love the little creature as though she were my 
own.” 

Oh, do stop your foolery, John,” said Mrs. 
Mansfield. “ Who cares whether you love her or 
not? It’s the plague of my life the way you go on 
about her.” 


85 


I^LL EXPLAIN TO YOURSELF 

“I can’t help loving her, dear, no more than you 
can help—^help hating her.” 

Who said I hated her ? That’s a nice thing to 
repeat to,my brother.” 

Well, then, give her up, Priscilla.” 

I won’t, unless I’m paid,” said Priscilla. She’s 
a perfect torment of a child and I never did think 
when I went away to visit my sick friend that I 
should be treated in so mean and so deceitful a man¬ 
ner. I won’t give her up unless I’m paid,” screamed 
Priscilla. How much are you prepared to offer 
me for her, Pergus ? ” 

I’ll give you fifteen pounds, Priscilla. I’ll send 
it to you from Desmondstown, but first of all this 
good fellow and I must go and see the child’s French 
relations.” 

Oh you must, indeed, must you ? A fine fuss 
you are making—a fine hue and cry about a beg¬ 
gar’s brat, whom nobody took any notice of at all 
until the last week or so.” 

Come along now, ma’am, and sup up your tea,” 
said Hannah, who just then added her own goodly 
proportions to the group in the hall. I have a 
beautiful egg boiled as light as anything for you 
and new laid as though it had dropped out of the 
nest, and a little bit of curled up bacon. Master, 


86 


i''ll explain to youeself 

you take the gentleman into the study and 1^11 see 
after Mrs. Mansfield.” 

!N'ow if there was one person in the world whom 
Mrs. Mansfield both respected and feared it was her 
old-fashioned servant, Hannah. Hannah had lived 
with her ever since her marriage, solely and entirely 
first on account of Mr. Mansfield, and then because 
of the sweet brown-eyed baby. She hated the 
woman for herself, but she would have done more 
than put up with her for the sake of that good man, 
John Mansfield, and for the sake of the bit girleen. 
She was a Yorkshire woman, firm and determined. 
She kept the house very clean, she allowed no waste 
anywhere and in some extraordinary way she man¬ 
aged to rule Priscilla Desmond that was. She ruled 
her by being outspoken and by letting this Irish¬ 
woman see what she really was. 

Here’s your supper, ma’am,” she said. You’d 
better sit down quiet-like and eat it.” 

Hannah, I’ve been treated shameful—shameful.” 

Hannah put her arms akimbo and stared fixedly 
at her mistress. 

I can’t see for the life of me where the ‘ shame¬ 
ful ’ comes in,” she said, and whatever made ye 
come back a week or more before ye were wanted. 
Wasn’t the master and me in the thick of house¬ 
cleaning when you come bally-ragging us ? ” 


87 


I^LL EXPLAIN TO YOUESELF 

I couldn’t help it, Hannah. My friend got a 
bad attack of pleurisy, and you know I can never 
stand serious illness—it’s more than I’ve nerve for.” 

Oh you are not lacking in nerve, ma’am. When 
you told all those lies about sitting up with the 
child that time she had measles and whooping-cough. 
It wasn’t you that sat up, bless your heart, it was 
the master and me. There’s no sense in what I 
calls useless lies, and them was useless. The master 
knew it, and he give one of those quick little sighs 
of his that cut me to the very bone, back behint the 
heart, and, what’s more, that fine gentleman from 
Ireland knew it—I saw it in his face. You are per¬ 
juring yourself more every day, Mrs. Mansfield, and 
you’d best step easy and go more cautious if you want 
ever to get to Heaven. There, now, you are crying— 
that’ll do you good. This tea is prime. I bought 
it at Dawson’s out of my own wages this morning, 
and this little curly crisp bit of bacon with the new- 
laid egg will hearten you up. Eat and drink, ma’am, 
and be decent to your good husband and, for the 
Lord’s sake, let the child go where she will be loved. 
There is no one loves her in this house but the 
master and me. There, to be sure, haven’t I got in 
a girl who is trying to smooth her work? I must 
get at her to see that she bottoms it properly. Take 
your tea and eat your egg and think on your sins. 
That’s all I have got to say to you/'' 


CHAPTEK VI. 


M. LE COMTE. 

Hannah had certainly managed to say a good deal 
in this short but pungent lecture, and the immediate 
consequence was that Mrs. Mansfield was compara¬ 
tively reasonable when her husband and Fergus saw 
her next. She confessed that children were a nui¬ 
sance and if Fergus gave her twenty pounds she 
wouldn’t mind parting with the child. 

“ It can’t be done,” said Mansfield firmly. 

Whatever do you mean by that, John Mans¬ 
field?” 

Exactly what I say, dear love. The little one 
has been the joy and blessing of my life. I can never 
express to this good brother of yours what little 
Margot has been to me and if I give her up at all, 
I give her up from a sense of duty, but I won’t 
allow you to receive money for her.” 

And right you are, sir, right you are,” said 
Hannah, who came into the room at that moment. 

The missus wouldn’t touch a brass farthing for 
the kiddy when she gets over the kind of shock of 


M. LE COMTE. 


89 


seeing that fine man her brother. I’ll manage her, 
master dear, you needn’t trouble your head.” 

It so happened that Hannah had her way. She 
did manage Mrs. Mansfield and, what was more, she 
got everything in order for her master and Fergus 
Desmond to start for their expedition to Arles, not 
that night but on the following morning. How 
neither of these good gentlemen knew a word of the 
French tongue, but they did discover by the aid of 
atlases, etc., the direction in which Arles was situated 
and they started off on their quest for little Margot’s 
French relations at an early hour the next day. 

They arrived at Arles on the following evening 
and, after making enquiries by means of one of 
Cook’s interpreters, they discovered the Chateau St. 
Juste. Arles is a lively and busy place and more 
than one person watched the singular pair as they 
passed down an avenue of plane-trees and by-and-bye 
came to some heavy iron gates, which the said inter¬ 
preter informed them opened on to the avenue, and 
eventually led to the Chateau St. Juste. The inter¬ 
preter then felt that he had done his duty. 

Fergus paid him twenty francs and a sprightly 
little woman, quite young and very lively, came out 
of a small and daintily furnished lodge to greet them. 

Ah, but you are Anglais,” she said, it goes 
without saying. I will take you down to the cha- 


90 M. LE COMTE. 

teau if messieurs so desire. Monsieur mon mari 
is ill, but it matters not—be can talk the English 
ah, cJiarmant! He has fallen ill of the accursed 
^grippe, but I nurse him well and he will soon be 
restored. Come, then, my good messieurs, come for 
yourselves and see le Comte St. Juste. I am his 
wife, it goes without saying. He is old and I am 
young, that also goes without saying. Follow me, 
messieurs, you will be rewarded when you see all 
that I have done for the castle. It was in ruins— 
ah! but I had my dot, chers messieurs. I made my 
money by means of the chapeaux and the tres chic 
garments for the different fHes which abound at 
Arles. Ah, but I made my pile—^my pile, and the 
Comte he worships me, and I myself am la Com^ 
tesse. Think you not it was well done, and think you 
I am ashamed of how I made my dot? Ah, mais 
non, mais non! The beautiful hats are made for 
the beautiful youth, the beautiful robes, tres dis- 
tinguees tres comme il faut, are also made for the 
young and lovely, but see! I get my price, the true 
price—one hundred and fifty francs for one little 
chapeau, one thousand francs for a robe which might 
be distinguished in any part of Paris. Ah, think 
not of it any more. It is over. I am Madame la 
Comtesse and Monsieur is le Comte and I put the 
place—ah, into its bridal dress. See! behold! Hot 


M. LE COMTE. 


91 


a weed, not an entanglement—all of the most spot¬ 
less. Think what the place was! One raises the 
eyebrow at the thought, and behold it now! Mon¬ 
sieur the Comte, he is that eaten up with joie that 
he can scarcely contain himself. Ah, messieurs, 
have I not done well ? ” 

You have done very well,” said John Mansfield. 
The little French lady turned towards him and 
gave him a sparkling nod. 

You come from the cold Angleterre ?'' she en¬ 
quired. 

I live in England and I love that country very 
dearly,” said John Mansfield. 

Ah, and you, monsieur ? ” the black eyes fixed 
themselves on the eyes which were almost as black 
as Fergus Desmond’s. 

I come from Ireland,” he said. I have come 
on a matter of great importance; I wish to speak to 
your husband, madame.” 

Ah, certainementj certainemenk Oh, la! la! 
you shall have your way. But Ireland—Ireland, 
have you not a name, monsieur ? ” 

^^My name is Desmond of Desmondstown,” said 
Fergus in his slow, grave voice. 

The little madame gave a sort of bounce in the 
air. 

Then the day of greatest joy has arrived,” she 


92 


M. LE COMTE. 


said. “My poor husband, he frets day and night, 
oh, but he has no reason. He is not ravished as he 
ought to be with all those good things that I have 
provided him with. His son, his only son, married! 
Ah, but it was a Paul and Virginia affair. He 
married a young Irish lady of beauty the most 
superb. I know it, for she came here and I sold 
her a chapeau and a robe. Ah, but you are like 
her, monsieur—^you of Ireland, I mean.” 

I am her brother,” said Pergus. 

“ Did I not say it was a day of joy,” exclaimed 
the little Comtesse. “ Well, she was beautiful and 
they loved her all of them, but the Comte, my good 
Pusband, he was harassed much because there was 
not the customary dot, and he made the young 
m’sieur Henri, the husband of the beautiful ma- 
dame, angry with bitter words and the young 
m’sieur he took, yes, he took his wife away. She 
was like a star for loveliness and then we heard 
that she had died, and shortly afterwards we got 
the information that the romantic ideas of mon 
pauvre mari were never to be fulfilled, for the young 
Comte died also somewhere in that bitter Angle- 
terre and we lost sight of the good babe that had 
been put into his hands by his young lovely wife 
before she departed to le bon Dieu, Ah, but those 
ivere sad times! This is the house, messieurs, now 


M. LE COMTE. 93 

we will enter, and I will tell M’sieur le Comte that 
you have arrived.’’ 

The two men were left staring at each other. The 
chateau was in truly French style, and although 
it looked perfectly neat and tidy lacked the air of 
comfort which John Mansfield’s little home pos¬ 
sessed, and which was even to be seen in Desmonds- 
town. 

After a very short interval Madame appeared 
again on the scene. 

Alors, je vais vous 'presenter a Vinsta'nt. Fol¬ 
low me, I beg. Best you here, M’sieur.” She 
pointed to a little lounge in a gaily decorated draw¬ 
ing-room, and I will take M’sieur, the Irish gentle¬ 
man, to see my husband. I will bring you Veau 
sucree, tout-de-suite, How follow me, M’sieur from 
Ireland.” 

Fergus Desmond gave his friend a glance of dis¬ 
may. 

Be sure that all will be well,” murmured the 
Rev. John Mansfield. There was a sort of intense 
encouragement in the words, and, holding his head 
very erect and pushing back his fine square shoul¬ 
ders, Fergus followed Madame la Comtesse into a 
peculiarly arranged salo'n, which was half a bed¬ 
room, half a sitting-room. 

On a sofa, supported by many pillows, and cov- 


94 


M. LE COMTE. 


ered by a thick crimson plush rug, lay a thin, very 
old, very worn man. He had all the inimitable 
grace of his nation, and would have sprung to his 
feet to put his heels and knees together, and make 
the necessary bow if Madame had not interrupted 
him. 

“ Alphonse, thou naughty one, thou must not rise,’^ 
she exclaimed. Rest at thine ease on thy cushions 
of down, and I will talk to the stranger with the 
good face in the other room. M^sieur Desmond will 
divert thee, my little Comte.’’ Here she pressed a 
light kiss on his forehead and danced out of the 
room. 

The first thing that Fergus felt when he found 
himself quite alone with the Comte St. Juste was 
the extraordinary likeness the old man bore to little 
Margot. It is true that it was a likeness between 
extreme youth and extreme age. Nevertheless, it 
was there. The shape of the face, the aristocratic 
poise of the head were repeated in the old man and 
the young child. There was a flush of childish 
pleasure now on the old Comte’s cheeks. He spoke 
in a hurried voice. 

Behold! are you indeed a Desmond ? ” 

Undoubtedly. I am the eldest son of The Des¬ 
mond of Desmondstown and in our country ‘ The ’ 
is the proudest of all titles.” 


M. LE COMTE. 


95 


Ah, ah,” said the Comte, I know it not, I 
know it not. But see—I speak the English tongue. 
You doubtless bring me information. I have been 
long, long pining for my grandchild. Do you know 
whether the little one bom to my Henri was son or 
daughter ? All in vain have I made enquiries, but I 
have dreamt of that little one, by day and by night. 
Have you brought me news of her—of him ? ” 
Fergus felt his heart sink within him. 

There is a child,” he said, a daughter. She 
is not so very young now—she will be twelve in ten 
months. She is beautiful. She came to us of her 
own accord and The Desmond wants to keep her.” 

Mais non, non/" exclaimed the old Comte. Is 
she not the child of my son, my only son? And if 
she is eleven, she will ere long he marriageable. Ho, 
sir, no, M’sieur Desmond, I will not give her up.” 

I thought, sir, we might pay you,” began Des¬ 
mond, who was not very tactful, and longed beyond 
words to have the clergyman by his side. 

The old Comte moved restlessly. He coughed 
also; he waved his hot hands. At that instant 
Madame la Comtesse entered, accompanied by the 
Eev. John Mansfield. 

I have been hearing the story, the romance,” 
she said. Ah, but it is of the most romantic. See! 
I deliver myself. Ecoutez, These are my words: 


96 


M. LE COMTE. 


The little Comtesse, for by the French usages 
she is also a Comtesse, belongs to us, M^sieur Des¬ 
mond. But we do not wish to be unfair. This is 
what I propose. Ah, mon Alphonse, I adore thee, 
yes, hopelessly, incurably, I adore thee to the folly. 
Sip this iced lemonade, my adoring love, and then 
listen to the words of a French Comtesse, who knows 
how exactly to make the words come right, to make 
the thoughts come quickly, to put the ideas straight. 
The little one, it seems, belongs both to thee, my 
adorable Alphonse, and also to the father of this 
good gentleman from Ireland. Let’s divide her, 
therefore. We have her half the time, and the good 
Desmond the other half the time, and I begin imme¬ 
diately to make her dot. See, my beloved one, see! 
Is it not sense? The two grandpapas shake hands 
over the head of the little one.” 

It seems to me the best idea of all,” said the 
Eev. John Mansfield. How this man had a won¬ 
derfully sweet voice, but while he uttered these 
words, his heart was like lead within him, for while 
the two grandfathers claimed the possession of little 
Margot, she was to him the life of life. She was to 
him the joy of all joy, but not for the world would 
he interfere with what he knew was right. He 
thought of a home no longer joyful, blessed, cheer- 


M. LE COMTE. 97 

ful, merry, and then he pushed that thought out of 
sight He was here to mediate, to arrange. 

The old Comte gave an impatient sigh. 

‘‘ I tell thee what it is, my good Hinon,” he said. 

I have not the secret of eternal youth. I must 
have my little one soon—at once—or behold I die. 
These limbs grow cold, this heart ceases to beat, 
M’sieur Desmond, I will have her now—at once— 
for three months, then your father of the title so 
high and proud can have her for three months. Is 
that not fair, will not that suffice ? 

It is fair and it must suffice,” said Fergus. 

Then go, my good M’sieur. Go quickly, I en¬ 
treat, and return with the hebe to her French home. 
Will you not go? It will be good for Venfant, the 
little Comtesse St Juste. But hold for one moment, 
the heart and the head get hopelessly mixed. What 
dot can we settle on her, ISTinon, ma petite? 

Fifteen hundred thousand francs,” replied 
Hinon without a moment’s hesitation, “ and when 
Monsieur the Irishman brings the little Comtesse 
here, we will have a notary present to sign the agree¬ 
ment, so that on her marriage day she shall be much 
looked up to, and I myself will arrange the marriage 
according to the true French style.” 

“ We do not want any dot at all,” began Fergus 


98 


M. LE COMTE. 


in an angry voice, but John Mansfield rose and in¬ 
terrupted him. 

We will go home at once and fetch the little 
one so that you may have three months’ joy in her 
society, M’sieur le Comte/’ he said. At the end 
of that time, I will myself fetch her to spend three 
months with her Irish grandfather.” 

That is well,” said the Comte; that is as it 
ought to be.” 

^^How soon then may we expect the little Com- 
tesse Margot ? ” said the present Comtesse St. Juste. 

Within a week from now,” said Fergus firmly. 

Ah, then, I must be preparing her little ward¬ 
robe. Think of that, my adorable Alphonse. The 
wardrobe of thy little Comtesse. Of what height is 
she, M’sieur Desmond, and of what breadth and of 
what colour ? My taste is of the rarest. Come with 
me for one moment all alone, M’sieur Mansfield; 
you have seen most of her and can describe her best.” 

She ushered Mr. Mansfield into the salon, which 
adjoined that of the old Comte. 

Mansfield found great difficulty in describing his 
little angel and Madame did not fail to notice that 
in spite of every endeavour the tears trembled to 
his eyes, although on no account would he allow 
them to fall. 

“ Oh, la, la! she is beautiful,” exclaimed the 


M. LE COMTE. 


99 


Comtesse, when his description had come to an end. 

Monsieur Englishman you are good. On that 
point rest assured. You have the distinction of 
bearing. I note it. I would that you could talk 
with our parish priest. You live among the high 
and holy things, M’sieur. ]^ow, then, I have a little 
secret to impart, I would not tell it to another, but 
to you, yes, you have the air—the eye so clear and 
frank. I^ow, Monsieur, when I married the Comte, 
he was great with the notion that I, his little I^inon, 
had given up all the chapeaux and the robes that 
brought in the money—the francs so numerous that 
I could make the old place look like it did so long 
ago, but I did not give up my Udblissement, m’sieur. 
Mon Dieu! I could not—I could not live without 
my gifts—I could not live without my silks and my 
satins, my lace, all real, I assure you; my opera 
cloaks, by tortoise-shell ostrich feather fans. I^o, 
no, I keep my magasin going, so that I can give a 
good dot to the little Comtesse, and the old man he 
knows nothing about it. He must never—^never 
know—must my adorable Alphonse.” 


CHAPTEK VIL 


THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 

Maegot'^s fast day had dawned at Desmondstown, 
On the following morning she must leave grand-dad 
and Madam and young old Aunt Eileen and young* 
old Aunt I^orah and young old Aunt Bridget. She 
must also say good-bye to the boys, to Bruce and 
Malachi, and she was fully determined somehow or 
other to manage to give a last good-bye to Phinias 
Maloney and his wife Annie, and the baby who was 
so truly young. 

Little Margot felt rery sad at the thought of going 
away, and she nestled more snugly than ever into 
her grandfather^s arms and looked up into his stern 
old face and kissed him on his brown cheek. 

Grand-dad,” she said, how much do you love 
me now ? ” 

Ah, worra, then, pushkeen, I^m thinking I love 
you better than all the rest of the wide world.” 

Oh, grand-dad,” said Margot, with a sort of 
gasp, then you love me better than all the old- 
youngs. It is wonderfully noble of you, grand-dad. 

100 



She nestled more snugly than ever into her grandfather’s 
arms .—Page 100. 









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THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 


101 


You are a holy man—you are as holy, I^m thinking, 
as my uncle, John Mansfield.” 

Drat John Mansfield! ” exclaimed The Des¬ 
mond. 

You mustnH say ^ drat grand-dad,” said Mar¬ 
got, more particular when you speak of a real holy 
man. Oh, grand-dad,” she continued with a little 
hurst of pain, I don^t want to leave you, I don’t.” 

You won’t, pushkeen, you won’t—^keep your 
mind easy.” 

But I’m going to-morrow,” said Margot. You 
can’t keep me, for I took a vow. We of Desmonds- 
town don’t break vows, do we, grand-dad ? ” 

You’re staying along of me, vow or no vow,” 
said the old man, clasping her tighter than ever to 
his breast. 

It was just at this moment that a commotion was 
heard in the hall. Young old Aunt Horah was heard 
to utter her celebrated whoop.” People began to 
run and to exclaim and the next moment, Fergus 
Desmond and John Mansfield entered the room side 
by side. 

Margot, although she was intensely happy at 
Desmondstown, had missed Fergus a good deal and 
could not understand why her beautiful, extraor¬ 
dinary horse had deserted her, but now she had only 
time to give him a nod and a smile and then she 


102 


THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 


rashed forward and was clasped in Uncle Jacko’s 
arms. She kissed him over and over and over. Her 
beautiful eyes grew wet with tears. She turned 
after a minute and brought him up to her grand¬ 
father. 

Here’s himself, grand-dad, here’s the holy man 
himsexf.” 

Madam had all this time been seated quietly in a 
corner. She was doing some of the celebrated Irish 
crochet, which brought in a t]:ifle of money towards 
the expenses of the place. She glanced now at her' 
son and her son gave her a look which she under¬ 
stood. She went straight up to little Margot. 

You and me, we’ll go into the kitchen,” she 
said, and see about your uncle’s tea. Come, picush- 
la machree/' She took one of Margot’s little hands 
in one of her own, still small and fine and dainty, 
and the child without a struggle, but with extreme 
unwillingness, left the room. 

The moment the three men were alone together^ 
The Desmond stood up to his great height. 

^H’m obliged to you, John Mansfield,” he said, 
‘^for looking after my granddaughter. You have 
acted in a very fair way towards her, I’m thinking; 
but I want her now for the remainder of my days. 
You are willing to give her up, eh, John Mans¬ 
field?” 


THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 103 

I must give her up,” said Mansfield. I have 
no say in the matter, alas! She is all the world to 
me, but I can’t keep her against her will and against 
what is holy and right.” 

Don’t talk to me of holiness, Mansfield,” inter¬ 
rupted The Desmond. What’s settled about my 
granddaughter? Sit down, man, if you must, you 
look a bit white and shaky.” 

Perhaps, Mansfield, you had best let me speak,” 
said Fergus. He has had a very hard time, has 
" Jlansfield, father, and has behaved like a perfect 
saint. I’ll tell the story and he’ll listen and you’ll 
have to agree, for there’s no other way out.” 

“ Ah, to be sure, Fergus, you always had the 
tongue,” said The Desmond. It was havin’ ye 
trained at old Trinity. Well, go ahead, what’s set¬ 
tled?” 

You know, of course, that my sister Priscilla 
married John Mansfield.” 

Married John Mansfield,” repeated the old man, 
one of the Desmonds married you? 

She did, sir, and she’s a good woman. She’s real 
aunt to little Margot.” 

. I call her a scourge,” said The Desmond. She 
never did anything that anyone else did. She was 
the torment of my life. But still for her to demean 
herself by marrying Farmer Mansfield’s son 1 ” 


104 THE LITTEE COMTESSE. 

He’s better than she is, father, ten thousand 
times better,” interrupted Fergus. Don’t you turn 
on him. He’s gone through enough. The little one 
would not be alive now but for his care. Prissy’s 
the same as ever, only a trifle more bitter. She 

claimed money for the child-” 

Which isn’t to be heard of, or thought of,” said 
Mansfield, but she’s a good woman—I won’t allow 
anything else to be said about her.” 

Well, let her keep her goodness, but let her keep 
away from us,” said The Desmond. I’m obliged 
to you, Mansfield. You have reared up that pretty 
bit thing and now she is ours, thank the Almighty. 
I wish I could pay you, not Prissy, but I haven’t 
got it, Mansfield. I’m a poor man, bitter poor, but 
Fergus, who will be The Desmond, will see after 
the bit colleen when I am took. I can rest easy in 
my bed to-night thinking that she’s in the same 
house, the pretty, sweet lamb. And she loves me, 
too, for that matter, Mansfield. Strange as it is to 
relate, she is wonderful took up with the old grand¬ 
dad.” 

“ Father, you must let me finish my story,” said 
Fergus. Things are not as smooth as you think.” 

What—^why ? What do you mean ? Who dares 
to interfere between me and mine ? I’ll have him 
ducked in the horse-pond, that I will.” 



TnE LITTLE COMTESSE. 


105 


“ Fatlier, yon must take tkings easy,” said Fergus. 

You can’t duck him in the horse-pond, for he’s 
too far away.” 

Why, he’s here, close by. I could lay me hand 
on him if I’d a mind,” said The Desmond. Be- 
dad, and I will, too, if I’m further roused. He’s 
coming holiness over me when he’s an out-and-out 
scoundrel.” 

If you mean John Mansfield, father, he’s the 
best man I know,” said Fergus. He’s put up with 
Prissy and that’s enough. Anyone who can do that 
must have the spirit of the Lord in him, say I.” 

She’s a good woman,” murmured Mansfield. 
He turned his head a little aside. This interview 
was trying him inexpressibly. 

How father, you listen,” said Fergus. Mans¬ 
field is the best of the best, and he’ll give up the 
-child whom he loved and reared and taught all she 
knows, for that matter. He’ll give her up without 
asking a penny piece.” 

I will so,” said Mansfield, it is the will of the 
Almighty.” 

“ Then why ever are ye trying to frighten me ? ” 
said The Desmond, sinking back into his big grand¬ 
father chair. 

It is because of this,” said Fergus, things are 
fairly smooth, but not as smooth as you think. 


106 


THE LITTLE COMTESSE, 


Mansfield lias nothing to do with it, so, for the 
Lord’s sake, don’t you turn on him. You forget 
that our Kathleen married a French nobleman.” 

A Frenchy! ” exclaimed The Desmond. I 
hate the whole lot of ’em.” 

Well, hate them or not, father, you have got to 
put up .with the fact that the child has got two 
grandfathers; you are one, and the Comte St. Juste 
of the chateau near Arles is the other. This good 
fellow and I had an interview with the Comte and 
it seems he has been all these years searching and 
searching for the child of his only son, who died. 
He didn’t even know whether it was a boy or girl, 
hut he knew there was a child and he couldn’t find 
it. Well, we brought him the tidings and luckily 
for us he speaks English, and so does Madame la 
Comtesse, his young second wife. He’s reasonable 
enough and he promises a big ^ dot ’ to the little 
one.” 

A dot! What’s a dot ? ” cried The Desmond. 

A full stop I suppose you mean, we don’t want a 
full Stop.” 

Ho, father, it’s the French for a dowry. It 
means a lot of money. He wanted to have the child 
altogether, but when we spoke to him, he was amen¬ 
able to reason. He will give her a lot of money— 
I can’t tell you the exact sum, but with what he can 


THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 


107 


give and what we can give, the little one will he well 
off—^very well off—only the condition is this: She 
is to spend half her time with him and half her 
time with yon. He^s very old—^very much more 
feeble than yon are, father, and he wants Mansfield 
and me to bring her over to the chatean near Arles 
at once. She is to stay there three months and then 
yon shall have her for three months. It^s reasonable 
and I’ve promised, and it mnst be done.” 

‘‘Yon say he is older than me,” said The Des¬ 
mond, “ and a Drenchy, too, bedad. Look at me, 
do I look yonng now ? ” 

“ !N’o, yon have got a bit of a disappointment, bnt 
she will be back with yon in three months.” 

The Desmond tnrned his head aside and it was 
only Mansfield who noticed his shaking hands. 

“ My little bit, my little own,” he mnrmnred, 
“my pnshkeen, my little own.” 

Mansfield got np very softly and left the room. 
In a few minntes he retnrned with some hot whisky 
and water, which he gave the old man. 

“ Yon mnst take it, sir,” he said. “ Yon are 
shook np, the same as I am, bnt she’ll be back with 
yon soon, for I’ll bring her to yon myself.” 

There was a great excitement in the honse when 
it was annonnced by Fergns that Margot St. Jnste, 
according to the French law, was a Comtesse, and 


108 


THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 


that she was to go immediately, that very day, to 
her French grandfather^s chateau outside Arles. 

The place was in a kind of turmoil, but the old 
man did not appear. Little Margot rushed in and 
olasped her arms round his neck. 

Grand-dad, I wonT go.” 

Ye must, pushkeen.” 

Grand-dad, is your heart a-breaking ? ” 

Will you forget me when ye are away, alanna? '' 
ITever—never—^never! As long as you live and 
as long as I live. Uncle John promises to bring me 
back to you faithful and true. And when he comes 
may he stay for a couple of days ? ” 

He may stay forever and ever, if he doesn’t 
bring that wicked woman, his wife. She married 
beneath her, but she’s a scold, for all that” 

I don’t know what a scold is,” said little Mar¬ 
got, ^‘but I always said she was a wicked woman. 
Grand-dad, she didn’t marry beneath her, she mar¬ 
ried far, far, far above her.” 

Yes, child, perhaps you are right Let’s see 
when you’ll be coming back to me, pushkeen.” 

This is the 5th of June,” said little Margot. 

“ June one, July two, August three,” said the old 
man. “ Ye’ll be back with me on the fifth of Sep¬ 
tember.” 


THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 


109 


I will that; I’ll be mad to come back. You 
and Madam will keep watching and waiting for me.” 

“ Don’t you doubt it, acushlOy don’t you doubt it” 
And you won’t grow any older, grand-dad, for 
that would be quite too terrible.” 

^^1^0 fear of that,” said The Desmond. I’ll 
keep up for your sake, aaushla rimvourneen/^ 

And I for yours,” said little Margot. Then she 
kissed the old man, and left Desmondstown. 

The little old trunk was packed and Malachi took 
it to the gate where the same funny, springless little 
cart was waiting for it. Bruce and Fergus and the 
three young old Miss Desmonds accompanied Mar¬ 
got to the little cart. She rode on Fergus’s shoulder 
up the avenue. It was Malachi who lifted her into 
the cart. Phinias Maloney was there to drive her 
to the station and Phinias Maloney’s young wife 
and the baby and the other children were all clus¬ 
tering round to bid the little Comtesse good-day. 

Meanwhile in the beautiful and celebrated town 
of Arles in South France great and intense excite¬ 
ment was going on, for Madame la Comtesse St. 
Juste was making what she considered suitable prep¬ 
arations for the arrival of her husband’s grand¬ 
daughter. She had from her own stores supplied 
innumerable frocks in French style for the little 
one to wear. !N’ot only did she provide frocks, but 


110 


THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 


daintily frilled petticoats and chapeaux of the very 
best, and open-work silk stockings and little delicate 
kid shoes to match the frocks—in short, she had a 
complete wardrobe suitable for the very small Com- 
tesse, who was to be the future delight of that ador¬ 
able one, her Alphonse. 

The railway journey was very long and little Mar¬ 
got was tired. She loved her Irish grandfather, but 
thought nothing at all about her French one. She 
was troubled in her mind, too, at the thought of 
parting with her beloved Uncle John. 

Oh, Jacko, my Latin and Greek,” she sobbed. 
They were getting very close to Arles when she said 
this, and John Mansfield took her in his big arms 
and kissed her over and over again, telling her that 
she must be a very good little girl and that she was 
indeed lucky to have not only one but two such loving 
grandparents. 

I would much rather have only one,” said little 
Margot. I donT understand the double. Why 
should there be a double. Uncle John? Why, I’d 
even put up with-” 

With what, mavoumeen? 

Why, herself, the good woman, to be near you/* 
said the child. 

My darling, we must all fit ourselves for the 
position that Providence assigns,” remarked good 



THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 


Ill 


John Mansfield, and then they reached the great 
station and found themselves in the stately town, 
for Arles is very south and very warm and exceed¬ 
ingly picturesque. 

Mansfield made enquiries and discovered that a 
carriage was waiting for la petite Comtesse. Into 
this the little Margot stepped. John Mansfield fol¬ 
lowed her. The ugly brown trunk was placed beside 
the coachman, and they drove in the direction of 
the chateau, which was quite a mile outside the town 
of Arles. 

They found Madame la Comtesse waiting to greet 
them. She wore a most wonderful dress, which she 
considered according to her own ideas, le juste 
milieu. On her head was a chapeau, which con¬ 
sisted mostly of large violets. Her dress was pale 
green, with a triste little how of black just under 
the chin. She hounded down the steps and clasped 
la petite Comtesse in her arms. 

I am thy helle grand^mere,” she said. My 
pigeon, my little cabbage, look at me, I am thy helle 
grand’mere in very truth.” 

But you are young,” said Margot. My Irish 
grandmother is beautiful and old.” 

Ah, but never mind, little strange one, it cannot 
be helped. The Irish grand^mere is old—the French 
grand’mere is young, tres hien. Come with me and 


112 


THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 


I will introduce thee to thy grandpere—eh, but he 
has got the years and well do they suit mon Al¬ 
phonse. Thy grandpere is adorable, my little cab¬ 
bage.” 

The French grandpere was certainly very differ¬ 
ent from the Irish grandfather, and little Margot 
looked at him out of her soft black eyes with a puz¬ 
zled mingling of admiration and surprise. 

Ah, but thou art indeed come, mon enfant I 

The old Comte reclined just as of old, on his down 
pillows. He was covered just as he was a week past 
with a soft crimson plush coverlet. He looked 
anxiously out of his sunken black eyes into the soft 
black eyes of la 'petite Comtesse. 

Thou art here—thou art my own, thou wast born 
of my Henri. Kiss me, little one, press thy rosy 
lips on mine.” 

Little Margot did what she was told. 

My grandfather of Ireland,” she said, is much 
bigger than you, grandfather of France. You will 
not perhaps live very long.” 

Ah, but mon enfant, donT say anything so 
shocking. Fi donc^ fi doncf^ exclaimed the little 
Comtesse, bending over her beloved Alphonse and 
kissing him passionately, then she turned to the 
child. A la bonne heure/' she cried, thou shalt 
have a dot that will astonish thee, and the notary 


THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 


11^ 


has come and he will make out the amount that was 
promised M. Mansfield, of the English Church.’’ 

I wish to say one thing,” remarked John Mans¬ 
field. “ This is the sixth of June, I will return for 
the child on the sixth of September, but during that 
time I wish her to learn.” 

Ah, oui, rnsieur, certainemenf! What would 
you wish la petite Comtesse to acquire ? ” 

“ Not Latin and not Greek,” interrupted Margot. 

My good uncle, the holiest man in the worlds 
teaches me those languages.” 

There is a school where I will send thee, petite. 
There thou shalt acquire the French in all its per- 
fection, and thou shalt learn the dancing. Ah I 
bravo! everything shall be as it should be. Thou 
must prepare for an excellent marriage, ma chere 
petite Comtesse.” 

“ What is a marriage ? ” asked Margot. 

It is—ah, but thou must not know yet. Digest 
well my counsels. I shall pray to le ton Dieu for 
the success of votre mari, that is to be. M’sieur, 
you are a religieux f 

He is a holy man,” said Margot. 

''Ah, oui, oui, mon enfant —I know all that, but, 
nevertheless, I am tout a fait Frangais and I love 
the French the best of all people in the world.” 


114 


THE LITTLE COMTESSE. 


‘^And I love the English and the Irish,” said 
Margot. 

“ Ah well, wait a while, ma pauvre cherie. Thou 
wilt soon see for thyself. When the marriage time 
comes on—then will happen the rejoicing, and I can 
dress thee, ah well! I have thy little garments al¬ 
ready arranged, but the avocat is waiting. The dot 
must be settled once and for all on this brilliant 
petite Comtesse, and then M^sieur, you will tell 
those good people in Ireland and your own sacred 
household what good has befallen la petite/' 

I like it not at all,” said Margot to herself. She, 
stood looking disconsolately out of one of the win¬ 
dows and remembered The Desmond and the old 
place gone to rack and ruin, and hated the idea of 
being left alone with grand’mere and grandpere of 
the French nation. 

It troubles me,” she thought, why did I ever 
leave my little home with my beloved Jacko? ” 


CHAPTEE VIII. 


BROWN HATS AND FANS. 

It is one of the astonishing and also one of the 
blessed things of life that children of the age of 
Marguerite St. Juste quickly accommodate them¬ 
selves to circumstances. She was naturally a very 
brave little girl, and she had a heart warmer than 
most, but there was a quiet determination about her, 
that same determination which had won her way 
into all the hearts of the good folks at Desmonds- 
town, and this she brought now to her aid. 

Her French grandpere was very nice, and she set 
to work to learn French as quickly as she could, in 
order to be able to converse with him not only in the 
English tongue but also in his own. The young 
new wife said that la 'petite Comtesse was altogether 
of the most ravishing. The old Comte said nothing 
at all, but he looked at la petite out of his twinkling 
black eyes and tried hard to see her father in that 
bonny little brown face—in those steadfast, deep, 
very dark eyes and in those smiling coral lips, but 
although little Margot had the dark eyes of her 
115 


116 BEOWN HATS AND FANS. 

father, very dark and very beautiful, she had what 
was better for herself, the soul of her mother. It 
was because of that soul that Kathleen Desmond had 
been so loved and because further she had happened 
to impart that soul to her little child Margot, who 
was in consequence more Irish than French. 

Nevertheless she must remain for three months 
with Madame la Comtesse and with Monsieur le 
Comte, her grandpere. 

There was one relief, however, for her. She had 
little or no affection for her French relations, but 
she did most truly adore the idea of going to school 
at Arles and of learning something about French 
girls in general. 

Madame la Comtesse had most solemnly promised 
dear Uncle Jacko to send her to school and Mar¬ 
guerite waited impatiently for the day and hour 
when she might commence her studies. The day and 
hour, however, seemed to be a long way off. Each 
day as it came she was expected to devote all her time 
to her grandpere and to make the old man laugh by 
her funny attempts at the French language. Still 
there was no talk of school. There was, however, a 
vast amount of talk of dress. 

Mon grandpere laughed until he could hardly 
stop laughing when he saw Margot in her pretty 
French costumes. He chuckled when she attempted 


BROWN HATS AND FANS. 117 

to imitate his French and Madame kept on saying, 
'' Fi done, fi done! Ah! but thou mightst be a child 
of three and thirty to hear thee talk. See, behold! 
How thou dost make thy grandpere laugh. Thou 
dost do him much good. Fi done, petite Comtesse, 
thou must not make him laugh till he expires. Has 
he not already the liver too pronounced ? We must 
take care of him, ma petite. He wishes for thy 
company and I—behold I have my chateau. Tiens! 
it comforts me not a little.” 

Margot gazed with some amazement at her young 
grandmother. 

Thou hast made a promise, ma grand’mere,” 
she exclaimed. The days fly and you do not fulfil 
it—^you do not carry it out. See, behold, Madame, 
it is of the most religious. You said it with those 
lips to the holiest man in the world. Behold, 
Madame, there will come a curse on thee if thou 
dost not carry it out.” 

Non, non, non,"' cried Madame, in great distress 
of mind. Speak not so cruelly, ma petite Com¬ 
tesse. See, mon enfant, I love thee. Thou shalt 
have another chapeau.” 

I don’t want another chapeau,” said Margot. 

I’d like to go to school, where the really young 
girls—not the old young girls—live. Thou didst 
promise, Comtesse. Thou must keep thy word.” 


118 


BEOWN HATS AND FANS. 


But thou dost give pleasure to the old man, thy 
grandpere. Think of that, ma petite/* 

“ I will give him greater pleasure when I go to 
school,” said Margot. I will bring him back day 
by day stories—ah, of the funniest. He will laugh. 
Thou wilt see, Comtesse, how he will enjoy himself.” 

Ma petite, thou hast a wise head,” said the 
Comtesse. Thou shalt have thy way. There is a 
school for the trimming of hats and for the perfect 
education in the French tongue, by one Therese 
Marcelle. I will take thee to her to-morrow morn¬ 
ing.” 

But I don’t want to learn to trim hats,” said 
Margot. 

Ah, but it is a rare accomplishment, little one. 
Thou will learn it and peut-etre the piano also, and 
peut-etre the French tongue in all its perfection.” 

And are the girls at Therese Marcelle’s old 
young, or only young ? ” enquired Margot. 

Ah, m<i petite hehe, they are one and all of the 
youngest and the gayest. See, I will take thee to¬ 
morrow. I am the last woman in the world to 
break my word.” 

Margot skipped away in her light and graceful 
manner and the next morning she and the Comtesse 
St. Juste drove into Arles in one of the very newest 
and best motor-cars of the time. They stopped be- 


BKOWN HATS AND FANS. 


119 


fore a large magasin, which looked to little Mar¬ 
got far more like a gorgeous shop than a school. 
There were chapeaux innumerable displayed in cer¬ 
tain windows, there were all sorts of robes—robes of 
every sort and description also to be seen. 

Madame entered smiling, holding the little hand 
of la 'petite. She was greeted by smiles from every 
one in the shop. In fact, her entrance seemed to 
bring a ray of sunshine with it. All the young 
women who were walking about and attending to 
different customers were trying to catch her eye in 
order to secure one of her much treasured smiles. 

Madame la Comtesse, however, knew her own 
mind and, motioning to Margot to seat herself, en¬ 
tered into conversation of a very earnest and at the 
same time spirited nature with a young woman who 
sat behind a sort of raised counter. Margot was 
left to look around her. She was much, indeed 
greatly, puzzled by what she saw. What could have 
happened—^what a very queer sort of school this was! 

Presently a number of ladies came in and Margot 
forgot her own immediate interests in the excite¬ 
ment of watching them. They did not look like 
English ladies nor did they look like French. One 
of them was very large and very fat and red. She 
had a square figure planted on large square feet and 
a firm jaw indicating a tenacity of purpose, which 


120 BEOWN HATS AND FANS. 

the ill-natured might call pig-headedness. A young 
and very pretty French girl came up and spoke to 
her. 

She said that she required a chapeau, condemn¬ 
ing as she spoke the entire style of Madame Mar- 
celle’s goods. 

There is only one thing here that would suit 
me,” she said. See, behold! ” she pointed to a 
very small child’s hat in a corner. It was trimmed 
with small hunches of marguerites and violets. Her 
friend expostulated with her hut she did not take 
the least notice. 

J'aime heaucoup le chapeau la/' she said, point¬ 
ing to the one of her choice. 

Ah,” exclaimed the young French shop-girl. Le 
chapeau pour la hehe. It is nice, is it not? But 
now, we must find something Parisian for Madame 
herself.” 

Before Margot could quite get to the end of this 
exciting story and find out which hat the red-faced, 
fat woman required, Madame la Comtesse came to 
her side. 

I have settled for thee, ma petite/' she said. 

Thou wilt come here each morning and take les¬ 
sons in the making of chapeaux, then, after that is 
over, thou shalt have an hour in which to learn the 
French tongue and half an hour to do the different 


BKOWN HATS AND FANS. 


121 


harmonies on the piano. Then thou wilt return to 
my Alphonse. Thou wilt be a very happy chere 
petite. See, I leave thee now under the care of 
Madame Marcelle.’’ 

Margot did not know whether to laugh or cry. 
The Comtesse whisked out of the shop amidst more 
nods and smiles and Madame came and took Mar¬ 
got’s little hand. 

Behold,” she said, thou art of the ancienne 
noblesse, !N’ow thou wilt learn. I myself will in¬ 
struct thee. Dost thou see that woman with the 
red face ? ” 

Oh, yes,” said Margot, she is very ugly.” 

She wants to find a hat,” said Madame, which 
would only suit a bebe. Now then, come. You and 
1 we will go to her and show her what is right. 
Thou must flatter her into buying a Parisian 
chapeau. She would look absurd with her own 
ideas.” 

- I thought this—this was a school,” said poor 
little Margot, raising her brown eyes and fixing 
them on Madame Marcelle. 

So it is a school, ma petite Comtesse, and of 
the most wonderful, tlie most extraordinaire. Ah, 
Madame la Comtesse is right to have you taught. A 
little knowledge goes a long way when it is acquired 
as I will teach it. Now, then, stand aside and listen. 


122 


BROWN HATS AND FANS. 


You will soon learn. I manage in this school of all 
schools the best. Come! Hold my hand.” 

She brought the pretty child forward and stood 
right in front of the red-faced lady. 

You want a chapeau, Madame. Ah, c^est drole, 
ne c^est pas? That is for la hehe/' She pointed 
with scorn at the tiny hat. Here is one for you. 
See, I am in the despair to oblige you, but behold 
I have th^ very thing.” 

Madame produced a hat from off its stand, cov¬ 
ered with flowers, butterflies and small feathers of 
different colours. 

Behold for yourself, Madame! It came from 
Paris yesterday.” 

It is too showy. I like the little hat best,” said 
Madame of the red face. 

Let me speak,” suddenly interrupted little Mar¬ 
got. ‘^Your face behold! it is red and must be 
softened. You shall wear brown. See, I picture 
it in my eye,” continued Margot, speaking as though 
she had been acting shop-woman all her days. A 
brown hat Ms doux and one long feather to match. 
Have you such a hat, Madame ? ” exclaimed little 
Margot. 

It is wonderful the taste of the Comtesse,” cried 
Madame. She sees at once what will suit you, 
chere Madame/' 


BROWN HATS AND FANS. 123 

The Comtesse! That little girl a Comtesse! ” 
cried the astonished red-faced American lady. 

Ah, oui, Madame. She is the young Comtesse 
St. Juste and her taste it is of the most exquisite. 
Paris itself cannot touch her.” 

Why does she come here ? ” asked the Amer¬ 
ican. But get me the brown hat with the brown 
feather. She looks like a child who has pretty 
taste.” 

Little Margot stood very silent. She was not 
going to laugh. Having given her idea she stuck 
to it. Her grave and lovely eyes were fixed on the 
American’s face. The brown hat was produced in 
a twinkling. It was tried on. It was pronounced 
perfect. 

I will have a fan to match,” said the American. 

Ah, oui, c'est hon/' said little Margot I will 
myself choose it for you, Madame.” 

She chose a fan made of brown feathers with a 
long tortoise-shell handle. 

“ Here, behold! ” said little Margot. 

Immediately the other American ladies buzzed 
round the brown hat and round the brovm fan, and 
little Margot found herself acting as shopwoman 
and enjoying herself immensely. 

And now the price, Mademoiselle la Comtesse,” 


124 BEOWN HATS AND FANS. 

said the red-faced American, when all the ladies 
had been provided with hats and fans. 

I know not,” said Margot. ‘‘ Madame, you will 
tell the price. For me, I am fatiguee/* She 
marched away, hearing however behind her a per¬ 
fect buzz of remonstrance. 

The prices were monstrous—they were absurd. 
They were beyond even thinking about. 

Madame stood calmly by, holding a pile of hats 
with brown feathers in her hand. 

It is the will of la 'petite Comtesse,” she re¬ 
marked, and then again she stood silent. 

By-and-bye the bustle grew so great, the noise 
so animated, that Margot wondered how the whole 
thing would end and when these horrid, disagree¬ 
able women would leave the shop. But after storm 
there came peace. The brown hats and the brown 
fans hastily arranged themselves, the money was 
paid, one hundred and fifty francs for each 
chapeau, and one hundred and thirty francs for 
each fan. 

Madame danced up to Margot and kissed her sev¬ 
eral times. 

We have made—we have made—oh, so much 
for your dot, little one,” she said. You are the 
very best saleswoman I ever knew. What will our 
sweet Madame la Comtesse say when we tell her! 


BROWI^ HATS AND FANS. 


125 


Six chapeaux at 150 francs apiece, six fans at 130 
francs apiece! Ah, hut it is marvellous! You have 
the natural gift, little one. Come with me now, 
into the apartment, where we sell the robes of all 
sorts and colours. You will make the fortune of 
this place, little Comtesse.” 

I will not go with you, Madame,” cried little 
Margot. This is not a school—it is a shop. I 
want to learn mj French. I demand that I learn 
it. I will not again give counsel about hats for ugly 
women.” 

You will learn the tongue of the French so rav¬ 
ishing in those apartments set aside for les robes/' 
cried Madame. Come, my little Comtesse, you 
are a genius and must not throw away your gift.” 

I tell you I am fatiguee/' cried Margot. I 
will not enter a shop; I will go to school. It is a 
vow taken. Where is my grand’mere? See, I will 
do nothing more in your horrid shop.” 

Ah, ma pauvre petite/' cried the good-natured 
Madame. La petite, she is tired out and no won¬ 
der. Ah, ma cherie is it not for your own dotf 
Now, come, listen. There is one playing in the 
other room. He is playing those delicious songs of 
Wagnere, Courage, mon enfant. You have done 
well and are tired. Ah, look at that robe in exquisite 
satin, coloured as the oyster, and that single row of 


126 BROWN" HATS AND FANS. 

pearls round the neck and that magnificent diamond 
star crowning the summit of le chevelure! See the 
air it lends. Will you not help me to sell that cos¬ 
tume so ravishing, my little Comtesse ? 

"'Non, non, I hate it all!” said Margot. I 
will listen to the music of Wagnere until my French 
mistress comes and then I will return to M’sieur le 
Comte St. Juste, mon grandpere. Ah, but I am 
miserable—^miserable in a shop. What would The 
Desmond say if he saw his pushkeen in a shop ? ” 

Madame saw that she had gone as far as she could 
with the little Comtesse. She placed her where she 
could listen to the beautiful music which delighted 
the child and soothed her troubled heart, and then 
a young Frenchman entered the appartement, and 
with his knees and heels tightly pressed together 
made a very low bow to the little Comtesse St. 
Juste. He began talking to her in a lively manner 
in the French tongue, correcting her mistakes and 
teaching her how to use the French language prop¬ 
erly. 

Margot was a wonderfully quick little pupil, but 
she sprang up with delight when she saw the Com¬ 
tesse enter. 

The Comtesse had an earnest conversation with 
Madame and approached Margot, her black eyes full 
of smiles and her cheeks very bright. 


BKOWI^ HATS AND FANS. 


127 


Ah, hut thou art of the very best, mon enfant/* 
she cried, and she took the little Comtesse in her 
arms and kissed her before everyone in the shop. 

The child and the woman got into the motor-car 
and drove off as quickly as possible in the direction 
of the chateau. 

Thou must never do that again, grand’mere/^ 
cried Margot. 

“ Do what, ma 'petite, my cabbage, my pigeon ? ” 

That was a shop, not a school. I desire to go 
to a school,’’ said Margot. I will tell M’sieur le 
Comte, my French grandpere.” 

Thou wilt not, thou couldst not be so cruel,” 
exclaimed her French grandmother. 

Ah, but I could and I would. I will not learn 
in a shop.” 

Then, however am I to get thee thy dot, ma 
petite f cried the Comtesse, and thou hast a gift 
in that way—a gift the most marvellous. Didst thou 
not sell six brown hats and six brown fans to-day? 
Thou hast the true taste running in thy veins, ma 
petite/* K 

“ But you don’t want me to sell hats,” said Mar¬ 
got. 

Yes, I do, I do. Thou hast the gift Madame 
confirms it. Tell not thy grandpere or he will rage 
—^he would rage in the French fashion and that 


128 BEOWN HATS AND FANS. 

might cause la mort. Ah, ma 'petite, thou wilt not 
injure thy pauvre grandpere.” 

^^But I do not understand,” cried little Margot. 

I will put it clear to thee if thou wilt not tell 
thy grandpere.” 

Perhaps I will not tell,” said Margot. 

Thou must not tell, 'ma petite. The hats and 
fans thou didst sell were mine and the money goes 
towards thy dot. Go to my most beautiful etablisse- 
me'nt each day for one hour, for thou hast most 
truly the gift of selling, and the title of the little 
Comtesse goes far. Then I will call for thee and 
take thee to a school, a school for the daughters of 
the a'ncie'Ti'ne 'noblesse. Wilt thou do this for thy 
pauvre belle grand^mere and wilt thou keep it 
dark—very dark from thy grandpere ? ” 

But why—why must he not know ? ” asked little 
Margot. 

Because, ma petite, when I met that most noble 
and ancient gentleman, the chateau was going to 
ruin. He wanted the comfort hut he had not 
Vargent. I told him I had le dot and he married 
me. He thinks I have given up the etablissement 
where the chapeaux and the robes are, but how could 
I give them up, ma petite Comtesse, when we would 
have nothing to live on otherwise? See, thou hast 
the gift and thou canst help me; one hour a day 


BROWN HATS AND FANS. 


129 


amongst my chapeaux, one hour a day for la 'petite 
Comtesse to show her taste, and then I take thee to 
the very best school in Arles.” 

Will you really, Comtesse ? ” asked Margot 

“ I will, really, my most beautiful, my most lovely 
hehe. Do not embarrass thyself. All will be well. 
It is a bargain between us. 'No word to the Comte, 
thy grandpere! He is too feeble and too proud. He 
has the pride of all the St. Justes in his veins, but 
he lives in comfort out of my etablisseme'rit. Wilt 
thou not help me for one hour or two hours a day, 
little Comtesse ? ” 

“ Yes, if you keep your word about the school,” 
said Margot. I will not otherwise, indeed I will 
not.” 

‘‘Ho fear, ma petite, my word is my bond.” 

“ But,” said Margot, “ when I get back now, what 
am I to say to grandpere ? How can I talk to him 
about the shop which is thy shop ? ” 

“ Tell him thou didst go into an eta'blisse'ment 
with me, thy grand^mere, and describe to him the 
American lady with the stout figure and the red 
face. Tell him what she wanted and what thou didst 
suggest. Ah, but he will laugh—he will roar.” 

“ I like Ireland better than France,” said Margot 
solemnly, “ but I will do what thou dost wish on 
this one occasion, grand’mere, for otherwise I could 


130 


BROWN HATS AND FANS. 


not live. To-morrow I will attend thy horrible shop 
for one hour and one hour only, and then I will go 
to the school where the young-young girls are and 
where I can he taught. See, thou hast promised.” 

I have promised and I will fulfil,” said her 
grand’mere. The school belongs to my friend, 
M’selle la Princesse de Fleury. Thou dost not know 
how much thou wilt learn there. It is chic of the 
chic. Oh, la! la! thou wilt enjoy thyself at the 
Princesse de Pleury’s school.” 

So little Margot entered the old chateau fairly 
satisfied. To be taught by a Princess seemed a very 
high honour indeed, and she determined to lose no 
time in picking up knowledge to delight Uncle Jacko 
and dear, dear grand-dad, The Desmond. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE ENGLISH GIRLS AT THE SCHOOL OF LA 
PRINCESSE. 

Margot was the sort of girl who invariably and 
without any doubt kept her word, but, being of that 
somewhat rare species, she expected those about her 
to keep their words also. Accordingly Madame la 
Comtesse was forced to send la petite Comtesse St. 
Juste to her friend la Princesse de Eleury, having 
made arrangements beforehand with that good 
woman, that the child should go to her every day for 
dejeuner. After that she was to devote herself 
to the learning of French and that music which 
charms even the savage breast. 

Little Margot was satisfied with this arrangement, 
and her grandfather, M. le Comte, little guessed that 
she was not at school all day long, but devoted the 
early hours of her day to selling hats innumerable 
for Madame la Comtesse. 

Little Margot kept her word to the letter. She 
had a real taste for millinery, acquired no one quite 
knew how, and it soon became the rage in the etah- 
131 


132 ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 

lissement that M’selle la petite Comtesse should 
serve the customers, for had she not the taste mag- 
nifique! At school, too, little Margot was perfectly 
happy. Her morning hours were hours of duty 
rather than pleasure, but the rest of her days were 
full of pleasure. She delighted beyond anything in 
acquiring knowledge, and very soon discovered to 
her intense delight that there were several English 
girls at the school of la Princesse de Eleury. 

There was, in particular. Lady Dorothy Duncan. 
She was living with a French uncle at Arles and 
went every day to the school of la Princesse. She 
was a fair, pretty, thoroughly English girl, and, al¬ 
though she was quite three years older than the little 
Comtesse, she took to the child with the dark bright 
eyes at once. The child, in her turn, took to Lady 
Dorothy. She was allowed for the good of her man¬ 
ners, according to la Princesse, to speak English with 
Lady Dorothy, and many beyond ordinary words 
were the confidences that each young girl made to 
the other. 

Margot grew tall and graceful for her age; Dor¬ 
othy was small and very slim. Things went on well 
both at the school and at the etahlissement, until one 
day Dorothy Duncan invited her most favoured 
friend to lunch in the chateau of mon oncle. 

Is it very, very French? ’’ asked little Margot. 


ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 133 

Oh, no, not any more than anything else here,’’ 
said Dorothy. You will enjoy it and you must 
come. As for me, I am overcome with raptures. 
My eldest sister—she is just seventeen—^has come to 
us all the way from Eome. She will soon he likely 
to meet someone whom she can marry. She will he 
absorbed in getting her trousseau, partly from Paris 
and partly from that great etdblissement here, kept 
by Madame Marcelle! ” Margot felt herself colour¬ 
ing slightly. 

What is your sister like to look at, Dorothy ? ” 
she asked. 

Behold, understand! ” exclaimed Dorothy, put¬ 
ting on all the Drench manners she could acquire. 

I think that some day I shall he beautiful hut not 
like Hebe. Hebe is almost as beautiful as you, ma 
petite Comtesse, only of course she is very much 
older. They say that the establishment of l^inon 
Lecoles cannot he beaten even in Paris, that city of 
all the delights. She has sold it now to Madame 
Marcelle. Ah, hut my sister will make a grand 
marriage and Voncle Gustave will give her a dot 
worthy of her.” 

I am to have a dot, too,” said little Margot, 
^^hut, behold, I care not for it! It is—it is less 
than of no use at all. What I want is to have my 
heart brimful of love.” 


134 ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 

Eh, hut you are a darling,’’ said Lady Dorothy. 
I know you will love my sister.” 

I am sure I shall,” said little Margot. Go on, 
describe her to me, Dorothy.” 

We are very proud in England,” began Dor¬ 
othy, very proud indeed. Ah, but our pride is 
immense. It is like a mushroom, standing up higher 
than our heads and the top of it covering us and 
shutting out the world. Of all my sisters there is 
none so proud as Hebe, and Voncle Gustave says she 
will make a very great marriage indeed. She is like 
me, but she has dark eyes, whereas mine are blue 
like bits of sky, nest-ce pas? 

Margot made no reply.' 

When am I going to see your sister, Dorothy ? 

Shall we arrange for to-morrow ? You may per¬ 
haps see one of the many pretendants to her hand. 
Hot that she looks at them. Ah non, non. She 
abides her time. There is one called Maurice de 
Croix. He is a man of the world with an air superb 
and distinguished, but my sister, she will not regard 
him. But there, I must not speak any more on such 
matters. There is, peut-Hre one in England. I 
guess—^but I dare not say. You will come to-mor¬ 
row, little Margot, straight from school and be in¬ 
troduced to ma belle soeur/* 

Margot gave a little sigh, said that she must ask 


ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 135 

grandpere, and would let her friend know the fol¬ 
lowing day. 

Grandpere was highly pleased that his little 
cabbage should have tea in the true French style with 
le pauvre Gustave. 

He was once a very great man,” said grand¬ 
pere, but he lived through his fortune and now— 
now he subsists on his pride. It is a great posses¬ 
sion, the pride, ma tres belle Margot, but it produces 
the hunger. I took care to do otherwise. I married 
my Hinon and since then, behold, I live in luxury, 
and can give thee a glorious dot, ma petite 

While Margot and her grandfather were talking, 
Madame la Comtesse entered the room. She was 
dressed in a pale shade of green with quantities of 
sequins of the same colour arranged on the front of 
her dress. Her little collar was of the best Honiton 
lace. Her dress was short, coming barely to her 
ankles. She wore open-work silk stockings of the 
same .shade and little green kid shoes en suite. She 
looked very charming and young, and no one could 
tell from her appearance what her age could possibly 
be. ' 

She rushed up now to mon Alphonse,” arranged 
his down pillows, settled his soft rug of crimson 
plush and said, ''Ah, behold, art thou not full of 


136 ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 

comfort, my adored one? And what has la petite 
been saying to thee ? ’’ 

Good news, my hGnon,’’ replied grandpere. 

Gustave, the present Marquis de Serregnon, wants 
this hehe to have tea with his nieces Hebe and Dor¬ 
othy to-morrow evening. Ah, but I fear the food 
will be poor, but the Marquis is the Marquis, and we 
must not despise him. This little Margot, this chere 
petite, loves dearly his English niece, Lady Dorothy 
Duncan, but it is the sister whom Lady Dorothy 
wishes her to meet.’’ 

A cloud, very imperceptible, but undoubtedly 
there, swept over the face of Madame la Comtesse. 

All shall be as thou dost wish, my most adorable 
Alphonse,” she remarked, and she kissed the old 
man first on the hand, then on the brow, then on 
each cheek and then, by an almost imperceptible 
wave of her own small white hand, motioned Margot 
to follow her out of the room. 

Answer me, and answer me truly, mon enfant/* 
she said. Hast thou seen the Lady Hebe Duncan 
in my etahlisse^nent? Hast thou perchance served 
her, ina petite f ** 

I have seen her and I have served her,” said 
Margot. I helped her to choose chapeaux yester¬ 
day.” 

Then she will know thee again when thou dost 


ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 137 

go to that place of desolation where le Marquis de 
Serregnon lives.” 

Yes, ma grand^mere,” replied Margot, looking 
full into the face of the little shop-keeper. 

And yet thou must go,” said Madame. It 
would offend thy grandpere else. It does not do to 
offend the old. Tiens! The heart beats too slow, 
it must not receive the shock, nest-ce pas ? 

I never wanted to serve in your shop, grand’- 
mere,” exclaimed little Margot. 

Ah, hut silence, my little beautiful! We have 
to make the francs to secure the proper dot for thee, 
mon enfant. ITow, let me consider. Thou wilt not 
go to my etahlissement to-morrow, and I will dress 
thee different. I will not even send thee to the school 
of la Princesse, but I will myself take thee in my 
motor car to the chateau of the Marquis. There I 
will dispose of thee for one short hour. During that 
hour thou must play the role of la malade. Thou 
must appear worn and pale and ill. Ah, hut I am 
clever enough to manage, and behold assuredly it 
shall be done. Thou shalt wear the dress of la 
malade, and thou must speak low and soft and re¬ 
fuse the food which is offered to thee and which in 
truth is not worth thy accepting. How see, behold, 
be guided by me, thy helle grand^mere, and mon Al¬ 
phonse will guess nothing.” 


138 ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 

Little Margot, not being in the least disturbed or 
annoyed, readily agreed. She returned to sit with 
her grandfather and kept him in fits of laughter with 
accounts of her schoolfellows. Meanwhile, Madame 
was very busy. She wrote two letters, one to the 
Marquis de Serregnon, the other to la Princesse, and 
she kept Margot away from the shop that day. Mar¬ 
got was undoubtedly making the said shop pay, but 
that did not matter at all, if only the adorable Al¬ 
phonse was kept composed and happy in his mind. 

When the hour approached for little Margot to 
visit the Duncans in the tumble-down old chateau, 
she was dressed very carefully by her grand’mere. 
In some curious manner the natural colour seemed 
to depart from her rosy cheeks, her eyes, so dark 
and brilliant, looked a trifle dull. She wore her 
school frock of course, but taking her all round, she 
had a sort of extinguished appearance. 

Madame la Comtesse taught her carefully what 
she had to say. 

have Trial a la tete/ Thou wilt not say more; 
thou wilt not say less. The Marquis will be scared 
for fear thou dost carry the infection. Oh, la, la! 
It is a good idea, and they will not think of the 
bright little Comtesse when they see the sad looking' 
malade who cannot eat or say much. Thou must 
keep all the particulars about the etahlissement close 


ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCKSSE. 139 

to thy breast. Thou must not allude to Madame 
Marcelle. Thou wilt go to her to-morrow morning 
again as arranged and, behold, I will have refresh¬ 
ments the most enticing for thee on thy return to¬ 
day! i^ow then, my Ma’m’selle, come along! The 
Lady Hebe will not notice the drooping child, who 
served her with so many chapeaux and at so great a 
price. See now, thou wilt be thy old self to-morrow 
and no one will ever guess our little strategy.’’ 

Accordingly Margot, accompanied by grand’mere, 
arrived at the ancient castle of the Marquis de 
Serregnon. Dorothy rushed out to meet her. Mar¬ 
got scrambled weakly out of the motor car, which 
was closed and which was to call for her again in an 
hour and a half. 

Margot felt terribly inclined to laugh. She 
longed to say I am a little shopwoman and this is 
all nonsense,” but if she did so, according to grand’¬ 
mere, she would destroy the life of that adorable 
one, Alphonse St. Juste. Accordingly she went 
languidly into the house and when Dorothy asked 
her in some surprise what ailed her and why she 
looked so white and good-for-nothing, Margot said in 
a voice tres douce, 

I have mol d la tete, Dorothy.” 

“ Ah, but what a pity that is,” said Dorothy, “ and 
we are all so gay, so very, very gay. A whole lot of 


140 ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 

chapeaux have been sent to us from Madame Mar- 
celle—for Hebe, of course. I have told Hebe that 
you are beautiful, Comtesse, but you don’t look 
beautiful to-day.” 

It is mal a la tetef* repeated Margot, trying to 
make her voice sound as weary as possible. 

“ Ah, pauvre petite/' said Lady Dorothy. You 
must lie on the sofa in this salon. Mon oncle Gus¬ 
tave will not come in, because we will ask him not, 
but you must see Hebe, for I long much to know 
your opinion of her.” 

Hebe Duncan at that moment bounded into the 
room. There was nothing whatever French about 
her. She was a laughing, highly coloured, rollicking 
English girl. Her age might have been eighteen—it 
might have been more, it might have been less. She 
stared hard for a minute out of her bright eyes at 
the little Comtesse and then said, Oh, la, la! ” and 
afterwards went off into fits of laughter. 

The little Comtesse murmured, It is la mal a 
la tete/' 

Dorothy put soft cushions under the head that did 
not ache and a rug over the little feet that pined to 
scamper about. As soon as ever she had done this, 
Hebe pulled her out of the room. 

Then began a violent conversation on the wide 
landing outside the Marquis’ salon. 


ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 141 

Dorothy said, Impossible! 

Ilebe said, It is true, a certainty! ” 

Then she re-appeared bolding several huge band- 
boxes in her hands. 

'' I bought these,’' she said, '' from a tres petite 
Comtesse at the etablissement of la Madame Mar- 
celle. Would you like to look at them?” 

Ho,” said Margot, and she suddenly began to 
cry. I bate etahlissements, I hate deceit. I have 
not got mol d la tete. Is there any cold water 
near ? ” 

Lady Dorothy stared and Lady Hebe frowned. 
But Margot was only thinking of Uncle Jacko, dear 
Uncle Jacko, and of grand-dad The Desmond. 

Take me where I can find some water, some icy 
cold water, please,” she said to Dorothy. 

Dorothy obeyed in a sort of bewilderment. She 
took Margot to her own room and soon the whitening 
process was removed from the little cheeks and the 
brilliant and lovely colour returned. Margot’s eyes 
sparkled as of old. 

How you look like yourself,” said Dorothy. 

You have no mal d la tete/^ 

Hone, none, none,” cried Margot. Hever 
had.” 

Ah, but how strange,” said Lady Dorothy. 


142 ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 

But never mind. Hebe will soon love you. Be- 
hold, Hebe, behold! This is my little friend.” 

“ And my little shop-keeper,” said Hebe in an 
angry voice. 

Margot’s big eyes blazed with a kind of fury. 

And are you really, really going to tell tbe Mar¬ 
quis ? ” said tbe child, her eyes blazing. Take 
your chapeaux then, here, and here, and here. I have 
repented of my lie^—I have confessed to you both— 
but—but-” 

She pulled the hats out of their bandboxes and 
flung them in Hebe’s face. 

How I despise you,” she said. I did what I 
did to help ma belle grand’mere and she keeps M. 
le Comte in all luxury and does everything for me. 
Ho, I don’t want your tea; I don’t want your 
gateaux. I am not ashamed of helping ma belle 
grand’mere. I help her a little, and she helps me 
much, but I will never choose a hat for you again. 
Understand! You can go to Madame Marcelle and 
you can spread the news, if you like, that I help a 
little one who helps me much. Behold, our chateau! 
It is neat, it is clean, it is white. It is full of 
things most beautiful and mon grandpere eats of the 
best and lives in the best style and he is happy. I 
will go on helping ma belle grand’mere and you can 
do as you please, but I will never choose a hat for 



ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 143 

you, Lady Hebe. See, I am off home now. I can 
easily get back to my comfortable home.’’ 

Oh, but no, Margot, no,” exclaimed Dorothy. 

Do not be so silly.” 

I will not be silly, I will be wise,” said Margot. 

This is worse than being young-old and old-young. 
Good-bye, for the present, I do not choose to be a 
guest and be looked down on. It is not the Irish 
way, and I did not think until now that it was the 
French way.” 

She wrapped her pretty little coat round her shoul¬ 
ders and marched down the avenue with the air of 
a small duchess. 

nevertheless when Margot got back, which she 
did before the motor-car had time to call for her, she 
was met by a singularly discontented helle grand'- 
mere. 

Why, my pretty, why dost thou come so soon ? ” 
she exclaimed. 

Because I couldn’t act a lie, grand’mere, and I 
had to tell the truth, grand’mere,” said Margot. 

The Lady Hebe is no lady. She calls herself one, 
but she is not, and I will never, never sell her an¬ 
other hat.” 

Ah, ma petite, what mischief hast thou done! ” 
said la grand’mere. 

I care not, I care not at all,” said little Margot 


144 ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 

I will not act the lie even for thee, grand’mere. I 
wish that thou wouldst let me go no more to the 
shop.” 

Ah, bnt thon must—thou art the fortune of the 
etahlissement, ma petite/' said grand^mere. And 
think what fun it will be selling chapeaux to others 
and never to the proud Comtesse. We will get some¬ 
one else for her and thou needst not serve her.” 

^^Tres hien/' answered little Margot and she en¬ 
tered her grandfather’s presence with a toss of her 
pretty head. 

But the next day at school things did not go so 
well with the little Comtesse. It was quite evident 
that much as Dorothy had admired her the day be¬ 
fore, Hebe had brought her round to the impossi¬ 
bility of having anything to do with a girl who sold 
hats at a shop. Dorothy not only came round to 
Hebe’s view of the question, but she enlightened her 
school-fellows with the true status of the little Com¬ 
tesse. 

She’s all a sham,” said Dorothy. I won’t 
speak to her any more, no, not me! ” 

Margot was beginning to get rather fond of 
Dorothy, but she took her English friend’s desertion 
very coolly. She thought out matters in her acute 
little brain. She let the French girls aloi^e, but 
there were, including herself and Dorothy, sixteen 


ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 145 

English girls in the school. These girls were all 
very much about the same age as Margot. She 
got them into one of the very small salons, which 
abounded in the old palace, now converted into a 
school. They all looked askance at her, but it was 
difficult to keep from smiling back into those smiling 
and beautiful dark eyes and it was still more difficult 
to resist the dimples that played round the lips and 
cheeks of the little Comtesse. 

See, behold, listen! ’’ she exclaimed. Dorothy 
Duncan does not like me because I help Madame 
Marcelle in her magasin. She pretends I am not a 
lady—^that is not true. I am a lady and my Irish 
grandfather has a title higher up than the stars. 
What do we think of Comtes in Ireland when we 
have ^ The’s ’ of the most ancient! Ma belle 
grand’mere has asked me to help Madame Marcelle 
a little bit. Ma belle grand’mere does great things 
for me and for mon bon grandpere. She is a woman 
oh, of the noblest, and there is not a chMeau greater 
or better than ours at Arles. Now, behold, listen! 
What sort of chateau does the Marquis keep ? Is it 
tidy, is it neat? Are there good things to eat 
therein? I guess not. Now, if you English girls 
will take my part I will take you to the etablisse- 
ment of Madame Marcelle and get you a hat each at 
cost price. You will have to pay ever so much less 


146 ENGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 

than the Lady Hebe paid when I flung her chapeaux 
hack into her face.” 

Ah, hut didst thou, indeed, little one ? ” said 
Agnes Martin. 

Jane Eaynor hurst into a fit of laughter. All the 
English girls with the exception of Dorothy were 
brought over to Margot in a body and on the follow¬ 
ing morning she had a tremendous sale of hats, which 
she gave by Madame la Comtesse’s express wish to 
the bevy of English schoolgirls. 

She chose the hats with great care and exquisite 
taste. Having done this, she went back to la belle 
grand’mere and told her that she did not wish to con¬ 
tinue at the school with Lady Dorothy. 

“ I like those who are faithful,” said Margot. 

She is not faithful and I will have none of her. 
I will attend in the shop every morning, ma 
grandmere, and you and grandpere can teach me in 
the afternoon until the happy, happy day when I 
return to Ireland.” 

And dost thou wish to leave us, ma 'petite f 
asked the Comtesse. 

Ah, oui, oui. The Desmond is so very noble,” 
said little Margot. 

Thou must abide with us thy full time. Thou 
canst not leave until September,” said la Comtesse. 

Tears filled the little Comtesse^s black eyes. 


EITGLISH GIRLS AT SCHOOL OF LA PRINCESSE. 147 

I know,” she said, I know. Uncle Jacko will 
call for me on that day. Ah, hut my heart will 
rejoice, it will sing! But indeed thou art kind, ma 
belle Comtesse, and so is grandpere, hut thou hast 
never seen The Desmond. I will go to him for three 
months and come hack again to thee and will serve 
for a little time each day in the shop, and hearken, 
Comtesse, thou wilt get me masters and mistresses 
next time, for I must learn—^yes, I must learn! I 
will not he an ignorant Comtesse of France, and 
nothing will persuade me to disgrace The Desmond 
of Desmondstown.” 


CHAPTER X. 


THOU ART FAITHFUL AND SO ARE MY BEES. 

I AM going to be your little pupil, grandpere,’^ 
said Margot, raising her beautiful eyes to the old 
man’s face. 

Eh, what,” he exclaimed, eh, what ? I thought 
you were at the school of Madame la Princesse.” 

I don’t like that school, mon cher grandpere. I 
don’t like the girls there. I want you to teach me, 
yes, you! You can, you know, you know an awful 
lot.” 

I don’t know anything, little fledgling,” 
answered grandpere. What I did learn, I have 
forgotten. I am an old man on the brink of eter¬ 
nity. It is not given to me to teach even one so 
douce as thou, mon ange/' 

But can we not read poetry together ? ” said 
Margot. know you are terribly old, grandpere; 
you are much—much older than The Desmond. 
Oh, but The Desmond he is magnifique —so big— 
so tall—so broad, his beard long and white as 
the snow I And his hair white as the snow! 

148 


THOU ART FAITHFUL AND SO ARE MY BEES. 149 

But his eyes are somewhat like yours, grandpere, 
only they don’t go in so deep in his head. Yes, thou 
art old, mon grandpere, but still thou canst teach 
thy little Margot. One hour a day; say it is done! ” 
But what shall I teach, my pretty ? ” 

How to talk the beautiful French tongue like 
thyself. Surely that will not be difficile. It will be 
to thee nothing, thou learned man; tres hien —ah, but 
I cannot say all the words I want! But thou canst 
do it, mon grandpere! ” 

“ Only for one hour a day, my Margot. But 
listen! understand! believe! We must not stay any 
longer than one hour over the French, si belle, for 
it would fatigue the old man.” 

After that I will teach thee the Irish language,” 
said Margot, her eyes sparkling. I will teach thee, 
and thou wilt laugh—oh, how thou wilt laugh! ” 

^Thou art a tres bonne petite enfant/' said the 
old man. I like to have thee near me, close to my 
side. For one hour each day, from two to three, we 
will talk that language the most elegant in the wide 
world, and after that I will lie back on my pillows 
of down and thou shalt tell me things to make me 
laugh, and laugh again, ma petite." 

It was in this way that Margot’s new life began. 
It was a very busy one and on the whole happy. 
She was glad to leave the school of la Princesse, and 


150 THOU ART FAITHFUL AHD SO ABE MY BEES. 

she greatly liked selling chapeaux and robes for her 
helle grand’mere la Comtesse. She was particularly 
happy when members of the school of la Princesse 
de rieury entered the eiahlissement, looked long¬ 
ingly at the pretty, clever child, and she had the op¬ 
portunity of giving them as she expressed it the 
hack/' She had great pride, had this little Comtesse, 
and when she swept past Lady Dorothy Duncan and 
even the other English girls who had tried to be¬ 
friend her, she enjoyed herself immensely. She had 
become in fact a sort of power in the etablissement 
and never did the francs come in so quickly and the 
robes and the chapeaux and the fans and the gants 
fly so fast. 

She had a knack of picking out elderly, rich-look¬ 
ing people and dressing them according to her own 
taste. Meanwhile she passed utterly by the inmates 
of the great school and the other aristocrats, of whom 
she took no notice whatsoever. The people whom 
little Margot attended to were bourgeoise but they 
were rich, and Margot was clever enough to charge 
them according to their means. In short, things were 
going so well, that Madame la helle grand’mere felt 
it only her duty to give the child the very best music 
lessons which Arles could produce. 

The afternoons were sacred to mon grandpere, 
and in short the little incident in connection with 


THOU AKT FAITHFUL AND SO ARE MY BEES. 151 


the school was well-nigh forgotten. Oh, what ja very 
happy girl was Margot St. Juste! But sheylittle 
knew that a cloud was arising in the blue of heiv sky 
and that she was not to escape scot free. 

Hebe Duncan was really engaged to a youii'^ 
nobleman of great distinction. The marriage was to 
take place within a very short time. She had an 
aunt who lived some distance from Arles who would 
supply her with that dot which the Marquis could 
not possibly raise, and this aunt came constantly to 
Arles to see about her niece’s robes and chapeaux for 
le manage. The fame, the taste of the small dark¬ 
eyed Comtesse had reached the ears of Madame 
Derode and she was determined that the little Com¬ 
tesse and no one else should assist in the choosing 
of the marriage garments for young Lady Hebe Dun¬ 
can. But it is one thing for man to propose and 
another thing for God to dispose. The little Com¬ 
tesse was exceedingly busy that morning turning a 
fat, ill-made Frenchwoman of the farmer class into 
an elegant lady. 

She was choosing the right robes, the right cha¬ 
peaux, she was—with a skill all her own—softening 
the tints of Madame Vollot. Madame Vollot hardly 
knew herself in her chapeaux and her robes. She 
stood in the centre of the largest salon, the admired 
of all beholders. A group of young girls surrounded 



152 T^IOU ART FAITHFUL AND SO ARE MY BEES. 

ier T^hile la 'petite Comtesse gave her orders in a 
firm land resolute voice. 

^yiou must wear this green, so dark/’ she said, 
and here are the very chapeaux for you 1 
5iesitate not, Madame Yollot! You will look—oh, 
of the most charming! ” 

A little way to the right stood Madame Derode, 
the Lady Hebe Duncan, and Dorothy, her sister. La 
petite Comtesse kept her hack to the group. She 
was absorbed with Madame Vollot. Just then 
Madame Marcelle came up and whispered some words 
to the little Comtesse. 

The little Comtesse shook her pretty head. 

non/' she said, it cannot be. I have all 
my time occupied to the moment. They have 
offended me and I will not serve them now. See, 
behold, when I have done with this cJiere Madame, 
there are others who are waiting for me. I cannot 
give any advice at all to the Ladies Hebe and 
Dorothy. You must attend them yourself, Madame 
Marcelle.” 

Madame Marcelle did her best, but the deed was 
done. Dorothy and Hebe, accompanied by their 
aunt, left the etablissement with their heads in the 
air and a very significant expression on their faces. 

Behold, I had my way,” said little Margot with 
a smile, and she went on giving all her skill and 


THOU ART FAITHFUL AND SO ARE MY BEE^. 153 

knowledge to the wives of the different farmers, 
who were so rich and could pay so well. But when 
they got into the street, Hebe said a word to her 
aunt, Madame Derode. 

“ I have suffered an insult,’’ said Hebe, and .T 
wish to repay it.” 

“ An insult, my dear child! ” said Madame. 
^^What do you mean? Who would dare to insult 
a bride-elect ? Ah, me, I know life and I know men, 
also. For thee is perfect happiness, my little Hebe.” 

nevertheless I have suffered an insult,” said 
Hebe Duncan. Did you not observe that ugly 
little girl, who gave herself such airs and who only 
attended to the farmer folk ? ” 

You cannot allude to la 'petite Comtesse ? ” said 
Madame Derode. Why she is a most beautiful, 
very young girl! ” 

nevertheless she has insulted me,” said Hebe. 
^^We have plenty of time. We will not take over 
long on this business. Aunt Matilda, I want to drive 
to the Chateau St. Juste.” 

Ah, but certainly,” said Madame Derode. Do 
you know the Comte, Hebe? He is a very proud 
old man; he makes but few acquaintances.” 

I shall get to know him,” said Hebe. 

“ And I,” exclaimed Dorothy. 

Well, have it your own way, my sweet pets. But 


164 T]^OU ART FAITHFUL AND SO ARE MY BEES. 

I hear/ that he is of the most delicate. We will not 
detain him long/^ 

Kot long,” said Hebe, blushing and laughing. 

They arrived in a very few minutes at the chateau, 
which was in exquisite order. Everything new and 
iresh and, according to Madame Derode, perfectly 
/^lovely, for she was the sort of woman who liked 
whiteness and spotlessness and everything in perfect 
present-day taste. Her own chateau was neat, but 
not to compare with this. She gave a quick sigh 
under her breath, but her nieces were too much occu¬ 
pied with their own affairs to observe it. 

How it so happened that always in the morning 
le Comte St. Juste took what he called his airing. 
He went out leaning on the arm of his gargon, a 
young man dressed in the ancient livery of the St 
Justes. He leant heavily on the gargons arm and 
went invariably in one direction, and that was first 
to examine the thriving rows of beehives and second 
the peaches, which were ripening to a lovely golden 
red on the high brick wall. The Comte St. Juste 
used to count the peaches and rejoice in their fra¬ 
grance. He was a happy old man—very happy since 
he had married his Hinon. It mattered little to him 
if she had once kept a shop. She kept one no longer. 
He could not have married her if that was the case. 
They lived oh, so happily on the rich dot which she 


THOU ART FAITHFUL AND SO ARE MY BEE^. 155 

had brought with her. She was one in ten thousand, 
his pretty i^inon, so young, so gay, and of the taste 
the most perfect. 

It therefore so happened that when the three lav lies 
drove up in their automobile to the Chateau C'c. 
Juste, they only found Madame la Comtesse standing 
on the front steps and giving directions to one of 
her numerous gardeners^ 

Madame Derode got out of her car and introduced 
herself and her nieces. 

Ah, but I am in ecstasies to know you^ 
Madame,” said the Comtesse, but if you do indeed 
seek my Alphonse, you cannot see him now. He is 
at this present moment resting on his couch of down 
and must not be disturbed.” 

I know him by appearance,” said Lady Dorothy, 
and he is not on his couch of down. He is in the 
garden yonder; behold, he is talking to a gargon! 
I go to tell him, to tell him the truth. I will not 
stand the sins of your little granddaughter, Madame 
la Comtesse. She serves in your magasin, and her 
rudeness is unthinkable. I go to report to M. le 
Comte the wicked ways of that ugly child.” 

But—^but—I entreat you to stop! ” cried the 
anguished voice of the little Comtesse. He knows 
nothing—^nothing at all—oh, it will kill him, and he 
with the pride of all the St. Justes in his veins. He 


156 THOU ART FAITHFUL AND SO ARE MY BEES. 

knows not of the etahlissement. Le petit hehe and 
I, we keep it from him as a secret the most profound. 
Do not he so cruel as to injure him, chere Mademoi¬ 
selle! You go to the school of my friend, Madame 
le Meury. I recognize your hijou charming face.” 

“ I will have my revenge,” said Dorothy. I 
mind not at all the age of that stupid old man. I 
see him and I will go.” 

Dorothy, don’t—^Dorothy, I command thee not 
to go,” said Madame Derode, but Dorothy cared very 
little indeed for any such command. She had light 
and agile feet and before the unhappy little Com- 
tesse could prevent her, had rushed into the garden 
where the peaches and the bees were, dropped a low 
eurtsey to M. le Comte and then said in a hurried 
tone, 

M’sieur speaks the tongue of England. I am an 
English girl. My name is Dorothy Duncan. I am 
at the school of la Princesse de Fleury. La petite 
Comtesse no longer goes to that school.” 

The old Comte managed to hold himself very erect. 
He fixed his eyes on the pale blue eyes of the English 
girl. 

Will you have a peach ? ” he said. 

Ho, I want not your peaches, M. le Comte. But, 
listen, behold, I want to tell the very truth. La 
petite was practically expelled from our school. We 


THOU AKT FAITHFUL AHD SO ABE MY BEES. 15 T 

would have nothing to do with her. Think, M. le 
Comte, would it he likely ? She attends in a shop.’^ 

In a—in a-’’ began the old Comte. 

In the shop of the present Comtesse. It is now 
known as the etablissement of Madame Marcelle and 
la petite Comtesse goes there every day of her life 
to sell ugly, common things to the wives of farmers. 
The shop belongs to La Comtesse and she dreads that, 
you should know. Ah, but what a buzzing,’’ contin¬ 
ued Dorothy at the end of her sentence. There were 
innumerable voices; there was the angry tone of 
Hebe confirming her sister’s words; there was 
Madame Derode in tears, for she could not bear to 
afflict the aged; and there was the Comtesse, white 
as a sheet, bending over mon adorable Alphonse,” 
who had sunk slowly but surely to the ground in a 
state of complete unconsciousness. 

Dorothy stood at his back, a little frightened at 
her own words, and then she uttered a scream and 
a shriek, for the celebrated bees of M. le Comte St. 
Juste were surrounding her. They were getting into 
her hair, they were stinging her neck, her arms, even 
her lips and her eyes. She could not get away from 
them. The old man heard nothing—^nothing at all, 
and Dorothy rushed out of the garden extremely 
sorry for her mean little revenge. 

She was immediately followed by Lady Hebe and 



158 TICOU ART FAITHFUL AND SO ARE MY BEES. ^ 

Madame Derode. 'No one had been stnng hut 
Dorothy and she could do nothing but cry out at 
her >^in. Madame Derode called her a child of the 
mos^ mechantes —of revenge the most puerile. She 
said the bees had but done their duty and when 
she dropped Dorothy at her school, she said that 
someone who could remove the stings had better be 
sent for, but that helas, for the rest, she pitied not 
at all la pauvre chattel 

After some difficulty, the unconscious Comte was 
brought into the house. He was feeling particularly 
weak and the abrupt sayings of Dorothy caused his 
heart to stop and then to bound again and then there 
came a dizziness and a darkness over him and he 
knew no more. 

But when he came to himself on his couch of down 
and the doctor was bending over him and Hinon was 
weeping tears on his face, he dimly recalled what had 
passed. The doctor administered a restorative and 
then went to another room with Madame la Com- 
tesse. 

Someone has given le 'bon marl a profound 
shock,” he remarked. 

It is true; it is quite true,” said the Comtesse. 

Oh, Dr. Jacqueline, I must confide in you. Listen 
and you will know all. Before I met my beloved 
husband, I was the well-known Hinon Lecoles and 


THOU ART FAITHFUL. AHD SO ARE MY BEES. 159 

there was not an etahlissement like mine in the whole 
of Arles, but behold! I met the old man, so gracious, 
so lonely, so neglected, and I exercised upon him a 
little piece of what the English would call the deceit. 
I told him of my wealth and he offered me his hand 
but only on condition that I would give up the etah¬ 
lissement which brought me in the francs in such 
multitudes. Monsieur, I pretended to agree, but oh, 
la 1 la! how could I give up my beautiful etahlisse¬ 
ment; how could I keep this chateau as it is now 
and give mon Alphonse his comforts ? So I changed 
the name of the etahlissement and called it no longer 
that of iN’inon Lecoles, but the establishment unique 
of Madame Marcelle. But it was mine—^mine all 
the time, kind M, le docteur. How could I keep 
this place going without it? And then when la 
'petite Comtesse came, she proved to have the gift 
extraordinaire j and she worked in my etahlissement 
and does work there every day and she brings in the 
francs as they never came before. But we decided 
to keep the knowledge from the old man because he 
is weak and feeble. Ah, M. le docteur, what am 
I to do ? If I give up my etahlissement, the death of 
mon Alphonse will assuredly lie at my door and yet, 
if I keep it—Oh, doctor, counsel a wretched 
woman! ” 

^^You must keep the etahlissement, sans doute. 


160 THOU ART FAITHFUL AHD SO ARE MY BEES. 

Yotre mari has had a shock but he will not die. 
That girl was mean who told him, but I have just 
been removing the stings of bees from her and she 
will he much swollen and distressed for some days. 
There is no doubt whatever that she has got her 
punishment. Ah, and here comes la 'petite Com- 
tesse! ’’ 

The little Comtesse stared in some astonishment 
at the doctor’s motor-car, at la belle grand’mere’s 
tearful face and at the confusion which seemed to 
surround the hitherto peaceful place. 

Oh, grand’mere,” she exclaimed. I have sold 
three thousand francs worth of goods for thee this 
morning. Oui, tres vrai, with my ovm skill I did 
it! I would not look at Lady Hebe nor at Lady 
Dorothy, the ugly stuck-up things that they are. But 
I attended to the wives of the farmers and they paid 
cash down, grand’mere, and they are going to Paris 
all three of them in their new chapeaux and robes 
and fans. Ah, hut I made the stout one look slim 
and the slim one a little grosse, nest ce pas? And 
the whole of them elegant. And Dorothy and Hebe 
were fluttering round waiting for my judgment, but 
grand’mere, I gave it not. I would not speak to 
them; they offended me. I gave them my back, 
^and’mere.” 

But thou hast injured thy grandpere,” said the 


THOU ART FAITHFUL AND SO ARE MY BEES. 161 

poor little Comtesse. That Dorothy is wicked, and 
has had her revenge. She found mon Alphonse in 
the garden with the peaches and the bees, and she 
told him all about thee, rna petite. He fell in a 
swoon, his horror was great, hut the cheres abeilles^ 
have stung her well.” 

And thou art weeping when I have made three 
thousand francs for thee,” said little Margot. I 
will go straight to grandpere and set him right.” 

Let the little one have her way, she has the 
genius,” said the doctor. 

You keep away, grand’mere; let me go alone to 
mon grandpere,” said Margot, And she ran in the 
direction of the salon with the couch of down. 

Margot had a very gentle way of speaking, few 
things put her seriously out, and she was more 
pleased than otherwise at grandpere learning the 
truth. He was lying very still on his sofa; his face 
was white and a tear or two trickled down his with¬ 
ered cheeks. 

Thou art not like The Desmond, grandpere,” 
said little Margot. The Desmond would not mind 
anything so trifling as a shop.” 

Ah, ma petite, ma petite'^ exclaimed the old 
Comte, and now he hurst into floods of tears. 

Margot knelt by him and wiped his tears awajr 
very gently. 


162 THOU ART FAITHFUL AKD SO ARE MY BEES. 

That flow of tears will give thee relief/’ she 
said. Thou wilt be better, ah, better! Let me 
arrange ^our vous^ grandpere. I like putting the 
mighty from their seats. Oh, grandpere, I have 
such a beautiful story to tell thee!” 

The old man ceased crying, and looked at the little 
Comtesse with wondering eyes. 

Perhaps it is a lie,” he said. 

Of course,” said Margot, there is a shop—^but 
it is not thy shop. It belongs to Madame Marcelle.” 

And not to my iMinon—oh, thank the God 
Almighty! ” 

I help Madame Marcelle a little while I am 
learning of the French tongue, si belle —that is all. 
Thou wilt not forbid it. Thy I^inon, ma belle 
grand’mere, is crying her eyes out at the thought of 
hurting thee, but it was done by those wicked girls. 
Behold I was in the etablissement, and I have got 
—ah, the taste magnifique! and the farmers’ wives 
—some very red, some very thin, came in to be suited 
with robes. Ah, but they were of the most superb 
that I did show them, and I suited the taste of each. 
I made the fat, red one to look thin and pale and 
elegant, ah oid, and the thin one I gave her a good 
figure and I chose chapeaux the most suitable. And 
I put into the pocket of Madame Marcelle three 
thousand francs this morning. For they are rich, 


THOU ART FAITHFUL AHD SO ARE MY BEES. 163 

these wives of fanners, and they pay as they go. 
But Dorothy, la petite chatte, and Hebe, they came 
in and they wanted me to leave my farmers’ wives 
and attend to them. They meant, doubtless, grand- 
pere, to run up a long hill and keep it going—agoing 
—agoing, so I said I would have nothing to do with 
them because I love them not and I do love the 
wives of the farmers. Then they were angry and 
they came here to see thee, mon grandpere, and be¬ 
hold, Dorothy, she was stung by thy bees. It served 
her right, didn’t it, grandpere ? ” 

^^Was she stung?” said grandpere. “I offered 
her a peach, which she deserved not. I did not 
know that she was stung. Mon enfant, thou art 
faithful and so are mes cheres aheilles/' 

And thou wilt see thy Hinon who weeps out¬ 
side ? ” said Margot. 

Of a verity I will see my ISTinon. What care I 
how many etahlissements Madame Marcelle keeps ?” 


CHAPTEK XL 


THUNDER STORM. 

Margot had been brought up by severe and much- 
detested Aunt Priscilla, and by that dearly loved and 
holy man, Uncle Jacko, to dread a lie beyond any¬ 
thing in the world. Aunt Priscilla scolded her and 
told her of the awful fate of little girls who told 
lies. Uncle Jacko pursued a far gentler and more 
effective way. 

Uncle Jackets way prevailed. He talked of the 
holy children who lived in the Hew Jerusalem. He 
talked of the smiling Christ, and God, the Father, 
and of the Holy Spirit, who entered into the heart 
of the child who tried to be good. He talked very 
beautifully and little Margot thought him very 
beautiful when he did talk on this subject, and never 
up to the present moment had she broken her solemn 
word to Uncle Jacko that she would at all costs and 
under every circumstance keep to the truth. Never¬ 
theless, here was she now, having broken that solemn 
word, having made cher grandpere St. Juste imagine 
that the etahlissement was kept by Madame Mar- 
164 


THUNDER STORM. 


165 


Celle and that la belle grand’mere had nothing what¬ 
ever to do with it. 

Oh, it was all terrible, notwithstanding 
grand’mere’s passionate kisses to the little girl, and 
notwithstanding the fact that Alphonse and his 
Ninon were once more priceless treasures each to 
the other. Margot went about with a heavy burden 
on her small heart. She had told grandpere St. Juste 
a lie—^yes, yes, there was no doubt on the subject. 
Her spirits, so happy and high; her animation so 
fragrant, so delightful to watch and listen to, seemed 
more or less to desert her. She used to sob hitter 
tears at night in her little cot and long beyond words 
for the moment when she might confess all to Uncle 
J acko. 

The old grandpere noticed the difference in la 
'petite and much wondered at it. Ninon, his wife, 
also noticed it and did her best, her very best, to 
keep the knowledge from the eyes of the adorable 
Alphonse. Still the fact remained —la petite was 
not what she was. She learnt a certain number of 
lessons from grandpere and enjoyed her music les¬ 
sons, which la belle grand’mere supplied her with. 
And she worked wonderful changes in the etablisse- 
ment with her beautiful taste and delightful chic 
appearance. But still there was the lie, always the 
lie, resting on her white little soul. 


166 


THUNDER STORM. 


On a certain occasion, la belle grand^mere found 
la petite Comtesse in floods of tears. 

“ What is it, ma cTierie petite f she exclaimed. 

Oh, tres drole. Oh ma petite, c'est drole, to see the 
tears flow for no reason! 

But there is reason, grand’mere,’’ said little Mar¬ 
got. I have told a black, black lie.’’ 

Thou! Ce nest pas possible! 

But I have, ma grand’mere. I did it for thee, 
because thy trouble was so great. Mon grandpere, he 
thinks that the etablissement belongs to Madame 
Marcelle. I got him to think so and he was con¬ 
tented. Oh, my heart, it is broken, it is broken! 
Grand’mere, my heart is broken in little bits. Canst 
thou not see ? ” 

Grand’mere burst into a low sweet laugh, not an 
angry laugh by any means, but one that puzzled la 
petite Margot not a little. 

Thou hast a genuine worship of the beautiful,” 
she cried. Thou dost help Madame Marcelle in 
her etablissement. Bor me, my fears are at an end. 
Why dost thou weep, ma petite^ Oh, les belles 
robes et chapeaux that thou dost make the old women 
buy. 'No one else could do it but thee! The beau¬ 
tiful costumes thou dost give them, at the highest 
rates. Wherever does the lie come in, ma petite f 


THUNDER STORM. 


167 


Oh, helle grand’mere,’’ said little Margot, thou 
dost know the shop is thine.” 

Mais non, mais non/' cried iN’inon, clasping her 
tiny hands. The great etdbliss^ment at Arles te- 
longs to Madame Marcelle.” 

“ Then why didst thou cry and get so frightened 
that day, ma helle grand’mere ? ” cried little Margot. 

It was an attack of the nerves, ma petite. How 
run out and play, thou dost want the air. Thou thy¬ 
self with thy tact did save mon Alphonse and I am 
a happy woman again and the dot of my little one— 
it grows and grows and grows! Ah, but she makes 
her own dot, nest-ce pas? How run out and play; 
thou didst tell no black lie.” 

Margot wondered very much indeed if her grand’¬ 
mere was right. She was a little comforted but not 
altogether. She had a shrewd sense of the justice 
of things and went to her almanac to tick off the 
number of days which yet remained before Uncle 
Jacko came to fetch her. 

How this little French mademoiselle gave herself 
in her own sweet independent way a great deal -of 
liberty. She ran whooping and smiling down the 
avenue. La helle grand’mere saw her and smiled 
to herself. 

It is dreadful to have la petite with a conscience 
that pricks,” thought grand’mere, but I think I 


168 


THUNDER STORM. 


have soothed her, and to-morrow morning I will com¬ 
municate with Madame Marcelle and tell her that 
a lie which rests so lightly on the soul of the French 
madame must he communicated to little Margot. 
She must tell little Margot that the etahlissement is 
altogether her own, then la petite will smile again 
and feel that she has told no lie. Yes, it can he 
done—it must he done! Mon Alphonse notices the 
cloud on the brow of la petite. It must vanish. She 
must converse, she must amuse. She must be as of 
old, a French petite with the wit of Ireland in her 
veins. Ah, she is truly diverting with her little 
pricked conscience, hut I can set that matter right 
for her.’^ 

Meanwhile Margot walked along the road think¬ 
ing very hard indeed and wondering if la belle 
grand’mere had told her the truth. It was now 
getting to the end of August and in little more than 
a fortnight she would he returning to that ancient 
man of might, The Desmond. Oh, how happy she 
would he; how she would nestle in his arms and 
tell him of all her sorrows! And on the way to 
Desmondstown she would confide in Uncle Jacko. 
Yes, he would tell her what was right to he done— 
Uncle Jacko, who only feared God, hut no man that 
ever lived—Uncle Jacko with the clear face and soft 
gentle eyes, who was so unlike Aunt Priscilla, that 


THUNDER STORM. 


1G9 


woman who was altogether terrible. Ah, hut even 
Uncle Jacko was not quite so dear to her as was her 
grandfather, The Desmond. He and Madam were 
perfect and so was Uncle Fergus perfect, and as to 
the old-youngs—well, she could not help them. They 
were much nicer than most of the French people 
she saw around her. So she skipped and ran and 
sang a gay little French song all to herself, hut she 
did not notice that all the time as she was going 
further and further away from the chateau, a heavy 
eloud was coming up and obscuring the sky, a cloud 
black and cruel as night when it is hopeless—quite 
hopeless with gloom. 

Pretty little Margot suddenly stopped singing 
because a great heavy blob of rain fell on the tip 
of her little nose. This was immediately followed 
by a flash of lightning and a peal of thunder so 
loud, so vivid, that it seemed to shake the very ground 
under her feet. There was a hedge at the side of 
the straight French road and Margot took refuge 
there, crouching in so as not to get too wet. She 
had just managed to effect her object when she heard 
an unmistakably English voice saying to her, 

It’s you, Margot St. Juste; I’m your late school¬ 
fellow, Matilda Paynes. I came out without leave. 
I put on my best hat, the one you chose for me. 
I wanted to go into Arles and to sun myself in the 


170 


THUNDER STORM. 


sight of the French windows of your great shop, 
Margot. But, behold, look, the rain, it trickles down, 
it pours in sheets; my chapeau which you chose for 
me will he destroyed. We were all so glad, Margot, 
when that horrid Dorothy got stung by the bees 
of M. le Comte. Oh, but she was a figure of fun, 
and she howled and screamed when the doctor came 
and removed the stings. Why did you leave us, 
little Margot? Could a girl such as Dorothy inter¬ 
fere with you ? 

Yes, she could, she did! ” said little Margot. 
“ I’m not going back to the school of la Princesse 
de Fleury any more.” 

Oh, my hat, my hat,” sobbed Matilda. Oh, 
how it pours—and see the lightning, it flashes 
through the raindrops. Oh, let us get further under 
this hedge. My beautiful chapeau will be destroyed 
and it will be known that I left the grounds without 
leave.” 

Come,” said Margot, getting up in her quick 
and resolute way. Never mind your chapeau, it 
is not safe to be under a hedge with thunder and 
lightning like this. Behold, the lightning may kill 
you—come, come 1 ” 

Oh, but I cannot have my beautiful chapeau 
ruined,” said Matilda. 

Never mind. I’ll speak to grand’mere and per- 


THUNDER STORM. 


171 


ha^s we may contrive another/^ said Margot. Come 
along at once or I must go alone. I don’t mean to 
be killed for the sake of any cbapeau.” 

Don’t leave me, don’t leave me; that lightning' 
frightens me! ” said Matilda. 

I must leave you,” said Margot, unless you 
come with me. You don’t want both your chapeau 
and yourself to die. Come, quick! ” 

Margot pulled her with a strong arm. Matilda 
found herself forced to come out into the centre of 
the road. They had haK a mile to walk through the 
drenching, rain. The poor little chapeau became 
like a sponge; both girls were wet to the skin, for 
the torrents of rain continued and the lightning still 
played, played brilliantly, unceasingly, and the 
thunder roared with mighty force. At last they got 
to the gates of the Chateau St. Juste, and Margot 
led her dripping companion into the well-kept hall. 
Both grandpere and grand’mere were waiting in the 
hall for their little Margot. 

She went swiftly up to them. 

Mon grandpere must not touch me,” she said, 
for I am a pool of water. I met Matilda Baynes 
—she belongs to the school of la Princesse. May we 
go upstairs, grand’mere, and take off our dripping^ 
things, and when the storm gets less may a message 
be sent to la Princesse, and may I lend Matilda some 


172 


THUNDEE STORM. 


of my clothes, grand’mere, until hers are dry? Ah, 
Hens, le chapeau, it is pulp! ” She kicked the 
offending hat with her foot. 

A few minutes later, both little girls were lying 
warm and snug in Margot^s bed. Margot told 
Matilda that she was nothing but a hehe, but that 
if she stopped crying she would try to get her an¬ 
other chapeau. 

It shall be for nothing this time,” said Margot. 

Ah, thou little shop-keeper 1 ” exclaimed Ma¬ 
tilda, “ thou little adorable one! ” 

Call me not shop-keeper, please. I am Comtesse 
St. Juste. 'Now lie still and I will get up and dress. 
Louise, see, has a message been sent to la Princesse 
de Pleury ? ” 

Ah, mais oui, Comtesse! ” replied Louise. 

Then I will dress. I will wear my coral frock, 
and thou must get a white frock of mine and under¬ 
garments for mademoiselle. Vitej vite, Louise! 
Mademoiselle wants to get up.” 

I don’t. I want to stay here forever,” said 
Matilda, yawning not a little. 

Thou lazy one,” said Margot, thou must be 
returned to the school.” 

Louise went out of the room to return with the 
information that the bath was hot and ready for 
both les petites. Then the two children were dressed 


THUNDER STORM. 173 

in Margot’s clothes and Matilda flung her arms round 
Margot’s neck and said, 

Oh, hut behold me of the most miserable! I 
am English and I do not like a French school, and 
I have a stepmother and I love her not, and my 
father is harsh and cruel. Will you not pity me, 
Margot ? When the time comes for you to leave this 
so-called beautiful country of France, may I not 
come, too ? I am learning to be a very bad girl at the 
school and I was always a bad girl at home, because 
of my stepmother and my harsh cruel father. Could 
you not get me to that castle of yours in beautiful 
Ireland ? If I lived for even three or four weeks 
with you I might turn good, I might indeed.” 

I can’t say,” replied Margot, I must think. 
There, thou art dressed and my clothes suit thee 
better than thine own. Hold thy head erect. See, 
I will dry thy hair and I will go now, this very 
minute, and speak to Madame, ma belle grand’mere, 
about a chapeau for thee.” 

Ah, yes, yes,” said Matilda. You are noble, 
Comtesse. I love you, I could crawl at your feet.” 

But I should not wish it,” said Margot. I 
hate people that crawl. I want you to become good, 
and perhaps, God knows, it may be the right thing 
to do. Stay where you are, Matilda, and I will go 
and speak to grand’mere.” 


174 


THUNDER STORM. 


She came back in a few minutes with a light danc¬ 
ing step. 

Grand’mere est un ange. She will settle with 
Madame Marcelle and I will choose you a chapeau 
for nothing at all. I know the kind that will suit 
you. I can dispose of you in a moment.” 

But, hut-” exclaimed Matilda. Am I 

not to see you again, sweetest Margot ? ” 

You have got to go back to school this minute. 
The rain is over and grandpere’s automobile is wait¬ 
ing for you. Madame la Comtesse has written to 
Madame la Princesse and you will not be scolded 
and you will send back my clothes after they are 
well washed and ironed. I cannot tell you anything 
about Ireland for a long day yet. Go now, Matilda, 
and don’t grovel, I beg.” 

Matilda looked rather startled and slightly fright¬ 
ened. 

Margot danced down to her grandpere. 

I have missed thee so, ma petite/' he exclaimed. 

The girl would have died, grandpere, if I had 
not rescued her. A flash of lightning would have 
taken her up to heaven as Elijah was taken up.” 

I know not that story,” said grandpere. 

“ Ah, well, grandpere, thou art a little ignorant 
in some things, but never mind, I want to ask thee 
a question.” 



THUNDER STORM. 


175 


Ask away, my cabbage, my fledgling,” said the 
old man. 

I want to suppose a bit,” said Margot. ‘ 
Suppose away, then, ma petite/' 

There was a little girl and sbe did wrong,” said 
Margot. It’s all suppose, don’t forget that, grand- 
pere.” 

I’m not forgetting,” said grandpere. 

Sbe did wrong, a deep, terrible wrong,” contin¬ 
ued Margot, and there came to her a sorrow which 
was great, which was severe. Her conscience 
pricked her. For behold, understand, she was a 
Protestant and could not confide in one of thy Catho¬ 
lic Church. Then it occurred to her that she might 
make reparation for her wrong and do something 
that she most badly hated, and so set her pricked 
conscience at rest. Dost thou think, if she did that 
thing, that the great God would forgive her, grand¬ 
pere ? ” 

I am certain of it, ma petite. I am as sure as 
that I am a very old man and that thou art my best 
cherie. But now, let’s talk of something cheerful. 
What does it matter to thee, petite, how wrong 
others are if thou thyself art free ? ” 

nothing at all, grandpere, dear grandpere.” 
Then make me laugh, my little pigeon. Turn 
to the merry things of life. We of the French nation 


176 


THUNDER STORM. 


are always cheerful. That is why we live so long. 
The gloom, it kills us, hut the sunshine, behold, it 
gives us life. Be my sunshine now, Tna petite. See, 
behold, make thy old grandpere laugh. It is all 
right and good and as it should he. Ah, my little 
one, but I love thee well! 

And I love thee, grandpere, hut not as well as 
The Desmond. Thou dost not mind ? ’’ 

I could kill The Desmond,” said grandpere. 

Margot burst into a peal of laughter. 

Indeed, hut thou couldst not,” she remarked. 

Thou hast not got his height nor his strength and 
thou art older. I see the age in thy sunken eyes. 
jN'ow I will tell thee a story tres drole/' 

Little Margot told her story and Madame la 
Comtesse listened to the childish laughter and the 
clear, happy, childish voice, and said to herself that 
there never was anybody before quite so sweet as 
little Margot. She must get that little conscience to 
prick no more. 

There is no time like the present,” thought la 
Comtesse. The shower has passed away and the 
air is fresh and here is the motor car returning, hav¬ 
ing conveyed that common English girl back to her 
school. I will go this very moment and speak to 
Madame Marcelle.” 

This Madame la Comtesse did, and to such pur- 


THUNDEK STORM. 


177 

pose and with such excellent effect that she did not 
once upset the nerves of Madame Marcelle and came 
home to enjoy the society of her husband and grand¬ 
daughter in the best of spirits. 

The next morning Margot went as usual to the 
etablissement, but before she began her accustomed 
work, Madame Marcelle called her into her private 
room and there she told her that she was working 
for herself, not for Madame la Comtesse, and that 
she found la petite Comtesse so useful that she was 
going to pay her two hundred francs a month for 
every month that she was with her, and that it had 
been further arranged that the little Comtesse before 
she left France for Ireland was to receive five hun¬ 
dred francs besides, having her dot put carefully 
away for her in addition. 

Ah, but thou wilt be riche, ma petite!*' said 
Madame Marcelle, and now go and attend to thy 
duties, for my magasin is like no other in the whole 
of Arles.^’ 

Little Margot looked with her firm, clear, very 
dark eyes full into the face of Madame Marcelle. 
It seemed to her that she did not believe her in the 
least. Nevertheless, the woman had told her what 
was beyond doubt the apparent truth. The little 
Comtesse attended to her usual duties, and in the 
end wrote a letter to Matilda Raynes, telling her that 


178 


THUNDER STORM. 


she would write to her grandfather and, if all went 
well, would invite her to spend two or three weeks 
with her at Desmondstown. 

Margot took a long time in writing her letter, but 
it was written at last. She would like to bring a 
girl, an English girl, back to Desmondstown; would 
The Desmond mind? The girl should never inter¬ 
fere with him, the darling, nor with that dear, dear 
Madam, but she could play with 17orah and Bridget, 
and perhaps a little bit with Eileen. She was un- 
happy at home, and not very happy at school and 
would The Desmond greatly mind ? 

The Desmond did not mind at all. He said to 
Madam: 

Put the English miss as far away from me as 
possible. Hand her over to the care of our young 
daughters. For me, I await my grandchild. I think 
and dream of no one else.’’ 

It shall be as you wish, Fergus,” said Madam. 

It is now the 1st of September. We shall have 
the little angel with us in less than a week.” 

Ah, the good God be praised! ” said The Des¬ 
mond. I look not ahead, I enjoy the present to 
the very, very utmost.” 

Your little grandchild loves you,” said Madam. 

We will get her room neat and beautiful for her. 


THUNDER STORM. 179 

and we will creep in, in the early morning, and see 
her asleep.’’ 

Hand in hand,” said The Desmond, looking at 
his old wife. 

Yes, Fergus, hand in hand,” said Madam. 

They looked at each other with a world of love in 
their eyes. That love had never been so strong as 
since the adorable grandchild had appeared on the 
scene. It had nearly killed them to part with her, 
but she was coming back again. Their night of 
weeping was turned into a morning of joy. 


CHAPTEK XIL 


GEM OF THE OCEAH. 

There was no doubt on this occasion with regard 
to the welcome prepared for little Margot St. Juste. 
She and her beloved Uncle John and the Reparation, 
as she called the uninteresting English girl, arrived 
at the station nearest to Desmondstown somewhat 
late at night. 

Matilda was overcome with delight at the thought 
of her three weeks at Desmondstown. She begged 
and implored of Margot to call her Tilly. 

Margot said, That’s not your name in my mind,’^ 
but when Uncle Jacko looked at the little girl out 
of his kind, thoughtful, sweet eyes, she felt a sudden 
lump rising in her throat. 

Why should she be unkind to Tilly ? 

I’ll call you Till,” she said, only please don’t 
clasp my hand quite so tight. I’m an Irish girl and 
this is Ireland, beautiful Ireland.” 

^The first gem of the ocean, 

The first pearl of the sea,^^ 

murmured Uncle Jacko. 


180 


GEM OF THE OCEAH. 


181 


Yes, thaf s right,” said Margot. You’ll see 
what it is like in the morning. Till, and grandfather, 
the blessed darling, says that you may stay for three 
whole weeks. That is, if you are good.” 

Of course I’ll be good; I’ll be very good indeed,” 
said Tilly. “ Anyone would be good with la 'petite 
Comtesse.” 

I’m not la petite Comtesse here,” said Margot. 

I’m ‘ pushkeen ’ here, and most likely the old- 
youngs will call you ^ nanny-goat.’ ” 

Nanny-goat! But I won’t be nanny-goat,” said 
Matilda, thoroughly offended. 

Well, we’ll see, but you can’t help yourself.” 

And who are the old-youngs ? ” asked Tilly. 

You’ll see them also. Till,” remarked Margot. 

Oh, Uncle Jacko, darling Uncle Jacko, have we 
arrived ? ” 

We have, acusJila machree, alanna —heart’s best 
darling,” said the elderly clergyman, clasping the 
child for one swift moment tightly in his arms. Ah, 
but you are the soul of my soul,” he muttered. 

Tilly looked on in amazement. She began to con¬ 
sider all these foolish words, none of which she could 
understand, as a certain token that the Irish were 
half mad. Still it was glorious to be close to la 
petite Comtesse. 

The train drew up at the station in that slow, 


182 


GEM OF THE OCEAH; 


drawling way in which Irish trains mostly do in 
out-of-the-way places, and lo and behold wherever 
Margot looked, she saw great bonfires and smiling 
faces and there, as large as life, were Phinias Ma¬ 
loney and the wife also of Phinias Maloney, and 
their two big ‘‘ childer ” and the infant who one 
moment howled, and the next screeched with delight. 

He really—he really came out of a cabbage leaf,’’ 
said Margot. He wasn’t hatched as lots o^ them 
are here. The old-youngs are hatched so often they 
are tired of the job. Oh, I must go and speak to 
that darling baby! Uncle Jacko, hold Till’s hand. 
I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Oh, but weren’t the Maloneys glad—just beside 
themselves with joy—at the thought of the pushkeen 
coming back to them again! 

Ah, then, ’tis yez that are welcome! ” said 
Annie Maloney. Childer, spake to her beautiful 
mightiness, drop your curtsies as I taught ye. There 
no, hould yezselves back. Ah, then, my push-keen 
lamb, it’s me that is glad to see ye. It’s the heart 
hunger I had when ye left, and long life to ye and 
to Mishter Mansfield, who has turned into a beauti- 
ful gent, for all that he war but a farmer’s son. It 
was me that thought of the bonfires; do ye see them 
ablazing to the right of ye and the left of ye, little 
missie asthore ? ” 


GEM OF THE OCEAN. 


183 


I do, I do! It was lovely of you, Annie,” said 
Margot, and she kissed the young woman, who whis¬ 
pered to her back somewhat shyly. 

Is that child to ^ himself' ?'' 

Margot burst into one of her ringing laughs. 

‘‘ Child to my holy Uncle Jacko! ” exclaimed Mar¬ 
got. Ho, she’s Reparation, that’s what she is. 
Don’t keep me now, Annie, I’ll come to see you to¬ 
morrow or next day.” 

Then Phinias, who intended to offer a very nerv¬ 
ous paw for the little girl to shake, but was rewarded 
by a hearty and most vigorous kiss, lifted Missie and 
Reparation into the funny cart. The luggage was 
lifted in also and they started off, hump, bump, 
uphill and down dale, all the way to Desmondstown. 

Margot was almost too excited to speak. The 
clergyman walked. beside Phinias and kept talking 
to him, and each moment the road became ruddy 
with more firelight and great shoots of flame rose up 
and filled the air, for was not the furze dry and firm 
and were there not great stacks of it, and did not 
gossoons keep putting fresh supplies on, all in hon¬ 
our of missie asthore, the darling of The Desmond ? 

Tilly, in her uncomfortable seat, felt very tired 
and half dropped asleep, but Margot suggested that 
she should sit on one of the bags and lean her head 


184 


GEM OF THE OCEAN. 


against Margot’s own knee and, then, disgraceful as 
it may sound, Tilly did drop asleep. 

But when they came to Desmondstown itself, there 
was such yelling and waving and dancing and laugh¬ 
ter—^laughter so loud and yet so clear—that even 
English Tilly could not sleep through it. And be¬ 
hold! All the old-youngs were waiting at the gate 
to welcome them, and the largest bonfires of all were 
alongside of the avenue, which Tilly described after¬ 
wards to her English friends as a wall of fire. 

“ It was done in honour of she wrote. They 
know how to welcome people properly in Ireland.” 

But in addition to the bonfires, great arches had 
been fiung up across the weedy narrow path, and 
on these were written the well-known Irish words, 

Cead mile faille/' which seemed to be to right and 
left of little Margot; she knew well now the mean¬ 
ing of the generous and noble words. 

Tilly was wide awake with a vengeance, and the 
old-youngs, both boys and girls, ran down the avenue 
with whoops and cries and Cead mile faille, push- 
keen,” sounding from their lips. 

At last they reached the old porch and entered by 
the wide double oak doors, and there, behold, stood 
Madam, and Fergus with his grave, still face, and 
in the distance The Desmond was to be seen, holding 
a lighted torch in his hand. Very erect indeed was 


GEM OF THE OCEAN. 1 

The Desmond, and his beard seemed longer and 
whiter than ever, and his eyes blacker and more 
piercing, and his great stalwart form was like that 
of a giant. 

Margot flew like a little creature all on wires 
from Uncle Fergus to Madam. 

Madam, darling Madam,” she said, that’s the 
^rl. Till. Tell the young-olds to look after her, for 
my heart is bursting till I get to The Desmond.” 
But when she did get to him the torch was extin¬ 
guished, and the very tall and majestic old man and 
the beautiful little girl entered his special sanctum 
side by side. 

They were alone, they were together once more. 

Little did Margot think of anyone else in that 
moment of glad re-union. 

I said I would come back, and I’ve come! ” she 
said. Oh grand-dad, oh, grand-dad, how lovely you 
look! You are worth twenty of Monsieur le Comte, 
mon grandpere in France.” 

Speak not of him, my child,” said The Desmond. 

I hate him with a deadly hate.” 

Oh, no, no! ” said little Margot. “ He means 
well and he can’t help being very old and feeble. 
You see, I had to bring Keparation with me.” 

Whatever does the pushkeen mean now ? ” said 
The Desmond. 


186 


GEM OF THE OCEAN. 


That tall, ungainly English girl,” said Margot. 

I had to bring her, she is Eeparation.” 

“ That’s as queer a name as ever I heard,” said 
The Desmond. 

But, grand-dad,” said Margot, you’ll have to 
be getting in a Reparation on your own account if 
you speak against mon grandpere of Erance.” 

Ah, whist, let him abide,” said the old man. I 
care nothing so that I have ye, my push-keen alanna. 
Ah, but let me look at ye, let me feast my eyes 
on your little face! Ah, but ye are my pushkeen 
alanna I ISTo doubt on that, and here comes Madam, 
—^here comes ‘ herself.’ Madam, we’ve got our child 
back, we’ve got our darling back once more 1 ” 

But sweet, dainty little Madam looked disturbed. 

There’s a gurrl that I can’t make head or tail 
of, she’s crying out for you, Margot asthore. I have 
set my three young daughters in their bloom upon 
her, but she won’t have naught to do with them. 
She keeps screaming and screeching. You had best 
speak to her for a minute or two, my little alanna.” 

May I go, grand-dad ? ” asked Margot It’s 
only Reparation. I’ll soon put her right Madam, 
stay with grand-dad and pet him awful. I know 
my way and I’ll smooth down Reparation as quick 
as a lightning flash. Pet grand-dad a great lot, 
Madam, for, oh, he’s such a darling 1 ” 


GEM OF THE OCEAN. 


187 


Little Margot whisked out of tLe room in her 
French frock and with a trifle of her French 
manner. 

Madam/’ said the old man, and he lifted up his 
voice and wept. I’ve lost her entirely, bedad! 
She’s turned Frenchy on me, and what are we to 
do with the gurrl she calls Reparation ? ” 

She’s herself the same as ever she was,” said 
Madam, sweet and true and dear. Hold up your 
head, Fergus, man, and don’t shame us with your 
tears.” 

Meanwhile Margot found her way to that part of 
the ramshackle old house where the young-old aunts 
and the young-old uncles, with the exception of 
Fergus, were doing their best with Tilly. 

Tilly was in floods of tears. 

I want Margot, I want la Comtesse,” she ex¬ 
claimed, and I don’t see any old-youngs. I only 
see the aged round me, the very aged. And I hate 
the place without la Comtesse.” 

La, to be sure, there’s no countess, here,” said 
Horah, and if we young things ain’t young enough 
for you, why ye’d best be going. Ye can sleep in 
your bit of a bed to-night” 

Yes, and in the morning I’ll drive ye back to 
the station and put ye in the thrain, so that ye can 


188 GEM OF THE OCEAN. 

get to the place only fit for the likes of yon, and 

that’s England,” said Malachi. 

I’d he ashamed to kick up a fluster in an Irish 
nobleman’s house,” said Bruce, but you English 
have no manners, none at all.” 

Just then, Margot appeared on the scene. 

Ah,” said Tilly, making a rush at her. 

I can’t, Tilly, I can’t. Reparation. I told you 
so when I invited you here. I told you that I had 
to spend all my time with my grand-dad. I’m 
ashamed of you. Till, that I am. You’d be fright¬ 
ened to death to sit in the room with himself. He’d 
let out a yell at you if you sat in the room with 
him and cried; you wouldn’t do it twice, that I can 
tell you. What more can you want than what’s pro¬ 
vided? Here’s Aunt Horah, she’s beautiful and 
young; and here’s Aunt Bride, she’s hatched about 
every second day; and here’s dear Aunt Eileen, and 
they’re all as young as you. Till. As a matter of fact, 
their spirits are much, much younger. And Uncle 
Bruce and Uncle Malachi are so funny; they’ll make 
you laugh all to fits. If you want to go home to¬ 
morrow, you can. I’m not wanting you, but you 
are not to screech in this house.” 

Hello, here comes supper,” said Bruce, as a 
huge joint of cold beef was brought in, accompanied 
by a great dish of pickles and an enormous platter 


GEM OF THE OCEAN. 189 

of the very best potatoes, all bursting out of their 
skins and showing balls of flour within. 

Come and eat, Till, that’s what you want,” said 
Margot. I must go back to grand-dad, but I’ll 
come to you by-and-bye in your room.” 

JSTow the sight of the excellent food was certainly 
reviving to Matilda Raynes and when Malachi offered 
to lead her to the festive board, doing so with a 
succession of hops and skips and jumps, she sud¬ 
denly found herself bursting into fits of laughter. 

Are you one of the old-youngs ? ” she managed to 
whisper to him. 

I’m nothing, I’m only Malachi. I breed horses, 
that’s what I do. Would you like me to mount ye 
on one to-morrow.” 

I would,” said Tilly, her eyes sparkling. 

Then I will if ye stop that hullabaloo.” 

You’ll hold me tight, for I’ve never rode in my 
life,” said Tilly. 

Ah, blessings on the girleen, but ye can learn 
for shure! ” 

Yes, I can learn.” 

I expect you can. hTorah, pour out a glass of 
milk for her. Biddy, acushla, I’m ready for some 
of that home-brewed beer. ITow then, babies all, to 
supper! ” 

The supper was so good and the old-young people 


190 


GEM OF THE OCEAH. 


were so merry that Tilda forgot her fears. She 
longed inexpressibly for Margot and for the refined 
life of the French school at Arles; but nevertheless 
there were never any potatoes like these, and Malachi 
had such a twinkle in his eye, and whenever she 
glanced at Bruce he winked back at her in the most 
comforting way. 

Then ^Torah’s and Bridget’s mirth was irresisti¬ 
ble; in short Tilly began to enjoy herself, and when 
by-and-bye Margot crept into the room set apart for 
Beparation, in which the young girl was lying sound 
asleep, she felt comparatively happy about her. 

Margot was on her way to her own room, the 
dressing-room of The Desmond, when she unex¬ 
pectedly and to her intense joy met her beloved 
Uncle Jacko. She stopped him at once. He put 
his arm round her and kissed her. 

Uncle Jacko, you are a holy priest, aren’t you?” 

I’m a clergyman of the Church of England, my 
dear little girl.” 

Uncle Jacko, I had to bring Tilly here—I didn’t 
want to, but she—she’s Reparation.” 

I don’t understand you, my pet.” 

Oh, Uncle Jacko, I hadn’t any opportunity to 
tell you when we were coming here, and it was a 
long, a very long journey, and I was tired, and Tilly 
was tired, and you were tired, but now, oh, I must 


GEM OF THE OCEAH. 


191 


tell you in as few words as possible. Uncle Jacko, 
your own little Marguerite told a black, black lie! 

You didn’t/’ said Uncle Jacko, starting back as 
though something pressed against his heart. 

I did, it came about in this way. Madame la 
Comtesse told the Comte St. Juste that she had given 
up her enormous magasin. She said she had plenty 
of money without working any more and the Comte, 
mon grandpere, he believed her. But she didn’t give it 
up at all in reality and she sent me there every day 
to sell hats and robes to the customers, and at last 
some wicked girls in the school that I went to—they 
had seen me in the shop—^and they went and told 
grandpere, le pauvre grandpere—and he fell down 
in a sort of fit, and Madame was beside herself. But 
when he came to, I told him that the etablissement 
belonged to Madame Marcelle, and he grew happy 
again and he forgave ma pauvre grand’mere. Oh, 
but it was terrible, for I had told a black, black lie! 
Then I thought I would repair it by bringing Tilly 
here and—I couldn’t confess because I’m not a 
Catholic—so that seemed the—the only thing to do. 
Oh, Uncle Jacko, can you forgive me? ” 

Have you asked God to forgive you, my little 
child ? I am a sinful man, but He—He is perfect. 
It was a difficult time for you, my little Margot, but 
you must on no account disturb The Desmond. Say 


192 


GEM OF THE OCEAH. 


notliiiig to him about the shop. You have three 
months to spend with him, and when I come to fetch 
you hack to Arles, we can talk further on this 
matter.’’ 

Oh, Uncle Jacko, you are good—^you are good, 
and you won’t cease to love me ? ” 

I shall never do that, my sweet babe.” 

And you will stay here for a couple of days, 
won’t you ? ” 

I will stay here till Monday,” said the clergy¬ 
man, and I will do my very utmost to make Tilly 
happy. ISTow that I understand why she has come 
I can manage her. Good-night, sleep well, my little 
one.” 

Margot did sleep well on her soft bed. The big, 
untidy room had been changed and altogether altered. 
Malachi had papered the walls white. iN'orah and 
Bridget had painted the doors a bright emerald 
green. There was a little bedstead with white mus¬ 
lin draperies put all ready for the child to sleep in, 
and there was a writing table in the window, and 
a chest of drawers which had been bought as a bar¬ 
gain by Phinias by the express orders of Malachi. 
men there was a deep cupboard in the wall in which 
the dainty and innumerable little French frocks 
could be hung. 

But when Margot awoke the next morning, 


GEM OF THE OCEAN. 


193 


flushed with sleep, safe and happy, little knowing 
that Madam and The Desmond had been gazing at 
her at the dawn of day, she discovered in a deep 
comer of that same cupboard an ugly little frock, 
which had been made for her before she came to 
Desmondstown. 

It was a frock made in the ugliest imaginable 
style by a dressmaker chosen by Aunt Priscilla. 
Nevertheless it was the dress she had worn when 
first The Desmond had seen his little grandchild. 
Without a moment’s hesitation she put it on. 

Bruce and Malachi had brought her in a hot bath 
in one of the famous washing tubs; and clean and 
refreshed, she mshed downstairs to kiss grand-dad. 
He was in his accustomed place by the great turf 
fire, and he stared first at the little frock and then 
at the happy child. Suddenly a cloud seemed to lift 
from his brow. He opened his big arms wide and 
folded her into them and said. 

Ah, but the Almighty be praised! I have got 
you back again, my bit thing. I didn’t half know 
you last night dressed up as a Frenchy.” 

I’m an Irishy to-day grand-dad,” said Margot 
with her merry laugh. 

“ So you are, my bit mavouraeen, so you are, the 
Lord be praised for all his mercies! ” 

Now .Margot had been given by Madame Marcelle 


194 


GEM OF THE OCEAH. 


on the last day of her appearance at her etahlisse- 
ment five hundred francs, which meant the solid sum 
of twenty pounds. And as her grandmother, 
Madame, paid all her expenses to England, in fact, 
beyond England, to Desmondstown, she had this 
twenty pounds intact. Her first idea had been to 
buy pretty things to take to the old-youngs and to 
the dear old-olds in Paris, hut an instinct kept her 
back from doing this and finally she made up her 
mind to consult Uncle Fergus on the subject. 

Uncle Fergus was very reliable. He would tell 
her what the beloved family at Desmondstown 
wanted most. 

Matilda Paynes had got over her nervous terrors 
of the night before, and enjoyed beyond words play¬ 
ing horses with the old-young aunts. She was there¬ 
fore quite off Margot’s mind and Margot determined 
while Uncle Jacko was talking to The Desmond, to 
seek an interview with Uncle Fergus. 

She found him in the great front courtyard. 
He looked anxious and even when he saw Margot 
hardly smiled, but when she ran up to him and 
slipped her hand into his, he said, Presently, push- 
keen, presently.” 

He then went on giving his orders to the men, but 
he felt all the time the soft little warm hand in his 


GEM OF THE OCEAH. 


195 


as though it were something unsurpassably delight¬ 
ful. 

Well, pushkeen,” he said at last. 

Pushkeen unfolded her simple story. She had an 
enormous lot of money, twenty solid pounds, no less, 
that she wanted to devote to the dearest family in 
the world—the Desmonds. Would Uncle Fergus 
teach her how to spend it ? There came a flash in the 
dark eyes of the future Desmond of Desmondstown. 

“ Tell me, little one,’’ he said, is it true that 
that Frenchwoman really keeps a shop ? She told 
John Mansfleld and he told me, so you needn’t fear 
to confide in me.” 

I won’t. Uncle Fergus, I won’t. Uow Pm sure 
the shop is hers. As you know so much, you may as 
well know more. I went every day to sell goods in 
it, and that’s why I have got my twenty pounds.” 

And you work, while I am idle, little pushkeen,” 
said Fergus Desmond. 

Oh, I don’t mind—I—I like it,” said little 
Margot. 

But it can’t he any longer,” said Fergus Des¬ 
mond. Put that twenty pounds into the ground 
at Desmondstown, pushkeen.” 

Bury it ? ” said Margot with a look of horror. 

In a sort of way, bury it,” said Fergus. The 
old fruit trees are worn out, we’ll buy new ones, you 


196 


GEM OF THE OCEAH. 


and I, and 1^11 turn into a real son of the soil, and 
the fruit trees will bring forth fruit and we’ll sell 
them, you and I, pushkeen. It will he a joint con¬ 
cern between us. I’ll do the work and I’ll give you 
so much interest on the money. Now, not a word 
to The Desmond, not a word. We’ll turn this rich 
piece of land into a beautiful thriving fruit garden, 
and I’ll buy the young trees at once and you’ll watch 
me while I’m making the desert blossom as a rose.” 

Oh, Uncle Fergus, you are splendid! ” said the 
child. 

Don’t you fear but you’ll get your money back 
and more,” said Uncle Fergus. I’m off to-day to 
get the young trees. I know where I can get them 
cheap.” 


CHAPTEK XIIL 


THE PINES. 

Xow there dawned an apparently very happy time 
in the life of little Margot St. Juste. Her whole 
heart was full of love, and with love was also a keen 
interest for the Desmonds of Desmondstown. Of 
course grand-dad, the grand-dad, came first, hut next 
to him was Uncle Eergus. As they talked together 
ovei the trees they were planting, and the fruit that 
would come to perfection from the same trees, the 
little girl rejoiced at the thought that her small 
efforts were bringing comfort and riches to the home 
of her ancestors. 

In short, whenever she was not with grand-dad, 
she was with Uncle Eergus, who threw himself into 
his work as indeed a son of the soil. It was amaz¬ 
ing to see this fine-looking man digging, delving, 
ploughing, arranging. He also got Phinias Maloney 
to assist him, and in an incredibly short space of time 
the brick wall was built and the tiny trees planted, 
which were to bring forth such a rich harvest by-and- 
bye. Then Margot suggested strawberries and Uncle 
197 


198 


THE PINES. 


Fergus made a strawberry plot. Then she suggested 
raspberries and gooseberries, to say nothing of vari¬ 
ous sorts of roses, little bush roses which would go 
on flowering during the greater part of the year. 

Whatever Margot suggested, Fergus obeyed. He 
had not been so happy since he had left Old Trinity. 
Margot called herself his assistant gardener, and 
The Desmond came out now and then to watch the 
pair with pride. 

Wherever does the avick get the money, 
Madam ? ’’ he said more than once. 

But Madam would only shake her head and say 
they might safely leave it in the hands of Fergus. 

The Desmond happened to make this remark one 
day at the mid-day meal and in the presence of 
Beparation. Beparation was going back to England 
in a couple of days now. She dreaded the thought 
beyond words. What was grand-dad going to do 
when he was left to the complete wiles of the little 
Comtesse ? She dreaded grand-dad,” as she called 
him privately to herself, inexpressibly. She 
wouldnT dare utter a word in his presence. As to 
The Desmond, he hardly ever gave the bit colleen a 
thought. She was welcome to stay in the old house 
if she didnT bother him, but Margot was equally 
determined that Beparation should go. 

She was not thoroughly happy with her about. 


THE PIHES. 199 

As a matter of fact she was not sure of her. There 
was a light which she could by no means admire or 
trust in the small, light-blue eyes of Tilly of Eng¬ 
land. In short, she avoided her as much as possible, 
hut Tilly was completely taken up with young Aunt 
Horah and young Aunt Bridget, whom she called by 
their Christian names, and said that they looked a 
lot younger than herself. 

I’m fourteen,” she said, hut you—^you are 
only kittens! ” 

How nothing could please the Misses Desmond 
more than to be compared to kittens, and they petted 
Tilly when she talked to them in this strain, and 
thoroughly believed her. But Tilly had her own ob¬ 
ject in view. She did not want to leave Desmonds- 
town, and said that she thought the best possible 
thing she could do would be to explain certain mat¬ 
ters to The Desmond. These matters would of 
course relate to Margot and would require a great 
deal of courage. 

Nevertheless she believed she might manage it and 
as the days flew by and as the time of her departure 
approached, so the more strongly did she make up 
her mind to the final and great step. 

How Malachi was a man of his word. For that 
matter all the Desmonds were truthful. Malachi 
had promised to teach Tilly to ride, and he took her 


200 


THE PINES. 


out on a broken-down old mare, a creature so feeble 
and slow that the timidest person could not fear 
when seated on ber back. 

Tilly bore with the mare for a few days, but then 
she became discontented. She saw I^orah and 
Bridget fly by on thoroughbreds of rare spirit. They 
bounded over hedges and gates and ditches, they 
seemed to tread the very air. Tilly got jealous of 
them and also became exceedingly tired of her slow 
old mare. 

There happened to be a horse in the stable, a 
young and exquisite creature whom Malachi was 
taking special care of. He was a thoroughbred from 
Donegal, and was not yet quite broken in, but every 
day Malachi put on a sort of skirt and rode sideways 
on the spirited and lovely creature, and gradually 
brought the horse into training. He obeyed Mal- 
achi’s slightest touch. He was of a deep chestnut in 
tone with a white star on his forehead. His points 
were perfect, and Malachi was teaching him, as he 
expressed it, to Hep ’ over everything, so that he 
might be fit for the hunting when it began.” 

One day he brought the horse Starlight ” home 
covered with foam and somewhat disturbed in his 
temper. 

There now, old boy,” said Malachi, you’ll 
have your feed of the whitest of white oats, and 


THE PINES. 


201 


be ready for another try over that wide ditch to¬ 
morrow.” 

Malachi, as was his custom, spoke his words aloud. 
He was busy all the time washing down and rubbing 
the beautiful creature. He then took him to his 
stall, and said, Good old boy, dear old boy! You’ll 
be fit for that very wide ditch to-morrow. You 
funked it a bit to-day but you won’t ever again. 
How then, eat, my mannikin, eat.” 

“ That’s a lovely horse,” said Keparation stand¬ 
ing at the door. 

Malachi gave a start when he saw the ugly little 
girl. 

To be sure he’s a jewel, no less,” was his instant 
rejoinder. 

I’d like well to ride him, Malachi,”'said Eep- 
aration. I’m tired of the old mare. She’s so slow 
—she only crawls. I want to fly like Horah and 
Bridget and you on Starlight. May I ride Starlight 
to-morrow, Malachi ? ” 

May you! ” exclaimed Malachi. Do I want 
to see yourself broken into little bits? You keep 
away from this horse. He’s not for you.” 

But why not ? ” asked Tilly, coming into the 
stable now and approaching close to the animal. 

Keep back, if you want to keep your features,” 


202 


THE PINES. 


said Malachi. He’ll kick out if lie looks at you^ 
as sure as my name is Malachi Desmond.” 

Why should he, Malachi ? ” hut Tilly stepped 
back a pace or two as she spoke. Why shouldn’t 
I ride Starlight? What are you keeping him for? 
And you do look such a figure of fun, Malachi,. 
dressed like an old woman with a skirt over you.” 

I’m training the horse for my niece,” said Mai- 
achi. He’ll be ready for her long before she goes 
back to that place in France, drat it! There now, 
you’ll never manage more than the mare, Tilly, and 
I can’t stand talking to you any more. Be off and 
play with the gurrls. They’ve come in from their 
ride, and I am sure they are willing enough to amuse 
you.” 

“ Take my hand for one minute, Malachi,” said 
Tilly. 

Malachi with extreme unwillingness complied and 
led the little girl out of the stables. He shut the 
door behind Starlight, who was enjoying his oats 
and feeling soothed and comfortable. He did not 
like his training at all, but afterwards there always 
came the wash down and the rub down and the 
delicious tender white oats, and he couldn’t unseat 
Malachi, try as he would. 

Is that beautiful horse really for the shop¬ 
keeper ? ” inquired Tilly. 


THE PINES. 


203 '. 


It’s for no shopkeeper. What on earth do ye 
mean? It’s for my niece, the pushkeen; and I’ve 
saved up and sent for an elegant habit for her to< 
Cork. It will arrive any day now. There, I can’t 
talk to ye any more, ye are so downright foolish.” 

Come and play horses with us. Till,” said I^orah,, 
who appeared at that moment. 

As a matter of fact N^orah had been standing in. 
the vicinity of Starlight’s stable for the last few 
minutes, and certain words uttered by Tilly had. 
aroused her curiosity. 

Why ever did ye go ballyragging Malachi ? ”' 
she exclaimed. He’s not a boy to be put out when 
he’s over the horses. Leave him to himself and 
come with me. Biddy and I and the curate, Mr.,, 
Flannigan, are going to have a jolly play.” 

I’m willing to come,” said Till. 

^^Well, you must be prepared to run, while the 
others follow. I say. Till, whatever nonsense did 
you talk to Malachi about the pushkeen’s horse?” 

I said it wasn’t a horse fit for a shopkeeper,’^^ 
replied Tilly. 

Well, and whoever said it was ? It is for the 
pushkeen, the sweetest pet in the world. Why, me- 
old father, he is fit to devour her with love.” 

For all that she is the shopkeeper,” said Tilly.. 

She keeps a shop at Arles. She goes to the shopv 


204 


THE PINES. 


•every day of her life, when there, and sells things and 
calls herself la ‘petite Comtesse, and they all buy 
from her, more especially the farmers’ wives, and she 
puts on the price like anything. She’s a real, real 
shopkeeper, but I can’t see why she should get a 
beautiful horse like Starlight, and I should have 
nothing but a stupid old mare who will hardly stir 
her stumps. You come in, ISTorah, flying over every 
obstacle, and there’s that beauty being got ready for 
the pushkeen as you call her. But I know what she 
is—the shopkeeper of Arles.” 

I don’t believe it for a single moment,” said 
IN’orah, but her pretty old-young face turned a little 
white. Look here. Till,” she said. “ You keep 
that bit of gossip safe in your breast and don’t let 
it out for the Lord’s sake, or there’ll be a hue and a 
cry. There now, you understand what I mean. 
There’s no sense in it. My word! A daughter of 
the Desmonds a shopkeeper! Get out with you and 
don’t be such a fool! ” 

I’m not a fool and I know who I’ll tell it to,” 
said Till, who was now bursting with rage. She 
had only two more days at delightful Desmonds- 
town. Little it mattered to her that the house was 
half bare, that the food was a trifle coarse. Was 
there not life in the place, and nobody scolded, and 
no one was cross? She did not want to go. She 


THE PINES. 


205 


would get that old man Desmond to let her stay a 
good hit longer. Why should Margot, who kept a 
shop, have everything and she, Matilda Raynes, have 
nothing hut the use of an old mare?. And she must 
go hack, oh, in a couple of days now, to her dreadful 
stepmother and her cross, cross father. But, hut she 
would have her revenge first. She did not care what 
happened if only she had her revenge. 

While the old-youngs and Mr. Flannigan and 
Tilly were playing the celebrated game of Puss in 
the Corner,’’ Malachi, his face all alight with joy, 
entered his father’s sanctum. 

Little Margot had heen helping Fergus with the 
making of the beautiful new fruit garden, but her 
toils were over for the present, and she was sitting 
on grand-dad’s knee; wrapped up, in short, in 
grand-dad, as though she was part of him. Her 
beautiful soft, jet-black hair made a vivid contrast 
to his white beard. She lay back comfortably in 
his arms, almost too happy to speak. She felt as 
though she was indeed part of him, he belonged to 
her. She was his very own. 

Madam, as usual, was crocheting in the distant 
window. Ho one took much outward notice of the 
sweet little Madam, but then she was the very per¬ 
son whom her sons and daughters, and her old hus- 


206 


THE PINES. 


band adored. And little Margot loved her, also, al¬ 
though not quite so much as she loved The Desmond. 

To be sure, it must be just as you wish, push- 
keen,” said the old man, and just at that moment 
Malachi, with his smiling, handsome face, entered 
the room. 

What are you up to now, Malachi ? ” said the 
old man. 

Starlight is quite broken in for gentle exercise,” 
he said. I wouldn’t trust him yet for great gaps 
or ditches, but he’d be safe, quite safe, for the push- 
keen to ride on the highroad, and I’ll ride beside 
her on Brian the Brave. I’ve come to tell you this, 
pushkeen. The horse is ready. Starlight is ready. 
I took a good bit out of her this morning, and your 
habit has come from Cork, as well as the saddle. 
You’ll look elegant—that’s the only word for it— 
mounted on Starlight with me alongside of you. We 
might go for a ride after dinner. I’ve taken some 
of the nonsense out of Starlight this morning. He’ll 
be as easy as a bit of silk to manage after we have 
had our early dinner.” 

To be sure, that’s fine news,” said The Des¬ 
mond, but you must take precious care of my little 
treasure, Malachi.” 

To be sure and that I will. You can trust me,” 
said Malachi. We’ll go soft and easy along the 



Never was there anything quite so delightful as that 

ride.— Page 207. 





THE PINES. 207 

highroad and pushkeen can call and see Annie 
Maloney and her childer.’’ 

Oh, I would like it, grand-dad,” said Margot, 
raising her dear, bright little face. 

To be sure you would,” said The Desmond. I 
suppose the of all the Desmonds is a bit stale 

for me to mount, Malachi.” 

He’s a hit old, father, but there’s good blood in 
him still. You sit easy by the fire with little 
Madam, and I’ll take pushkeen for her first ride on 
Starlight alone—we can talk about your riding the 
King of the Desmonds later.” 

The habit was a very pretty one of dark blue 
cloth, and there was a little soft crimson cap 
with a long tassel for the pushkeen to put over her 
jet-black hair. Hothing could be more altogether 
becoming, and the child’s total absence of fear com¬ 
municated itself to the high-spirited horse, who led 
her bravely up hill and down dale, Malachi riding 
beside her on Brian the Brave. 

Oh, never was there anything quite so delightful 
as that ride to the little pushkeen, and little, little 
did she suspect that her happy days at Dtsmonds- 
town were coming so quickly to an end. She could 
dance by nature and she could ride by nature. What 
Desmond had ever funked a horse ? And this child 
surely was a true Desmond, a chip of the old block. 


208 


THE PINES. 


The old-youngs and Mr. Flannigan were enjoying 
themselves at special games on the back lawn when 
little Margot flashed by in her new dark blue habit 
with her crimson cap and tassel. She came up quite 
close to the gate, but pulled in Starlight at a word 
from Malachi, and then the two horses and the man 
and the girl disappeared up the highroad. 

IsnT she a purty little thing ? ” said Flannigan. 

Tilly felt a sense of madness coming over her. 
'Now was her opportunity—now—^now or never. She 
slipped away from the old-youngs and softly unhasp¬ 
ing the door of The Desmond^s sanctum entered and 
stood before him, her hands folded, her heart beating 
fast. 

The Desmond was gently going off into the land 
of dreams and Madam was motioning to Till to 
leave the room, but TilFs chance had come and she 
would not lose it. 

I want to speak,” she said. “ I want to speak 
to The Desmond. I won’t keep him long. He can 
grant my request and then nothing need be done, or 
he can refuse it and then, behold, consider the fruit 
trees of all sorts, the strawberry beds, the raspberry 
canes, the roses! ” 

Who is talking, who is bothering me entirely ? 
exclaimed The Desmond. 

I don’t want to bother you, sir,” said Tilly, al- 


THE PINES. 


20^ 


though she had such a queer tremhling in her limbs 
that she never exactly knew the meaning of goose- 
flesh before. 

Oh you are Till Raynes,” said the old man. I 
couldn’t get at the back of your name for a minute. 
What do ye want, alanna ? I’m sleepy and I want 
to doze. I want to doze while my pushkeen is out.” 

Oh, do you indeed ? ” said Tilly, who, as is 
often the case, got less nervous as the time went on. 

The old man raised his jet-black eyes and looked 
at the girl. 

What do ye want, young English miss ? ” he 
said. He looked very severe and very stately. 

Tilly’s voice began to choke a little. 

You are The Desmond,” she said. 

I’m that, who doubts it ? ” 

I don’t, sir; only you, you frighten me a bit, 
and I don’t like to see you deceived.” 

“ Arrah, then, get out of this! ” said The Des¬ 
mond. Play with the young gurrls and don’t keep 
botherin’ me.” 

“ I will, in one minute; I will, really, only I have 
something dreadful to tell you.” 

Hot about my pushkeen? God Almighty help 
us, not about my pushkeen! ” 

Listen to me, sir,” said Tilly. May I stay 
here as long as your pushkeen stays, and may I ride 


210 


THE PINES. 


Starlight every second day ? If you say yes to those 
two things sir, everything will be right and you’ll 
never, never Icnow/' 

The Desmond rose slowly and ponderously from 
his chair. 

What are ye after at all, colleen ? ” he said. 

The pushkeen herself says ye are to go in two days 
and her wishes are to be first considered in this 
house.” 

Oh, are they ? ” said Tilly, her face almost 
black with rage, then I’ll tell—I’ll tell! ” 

You’ll tell nothing, Tilly Eaynes,” said Madam, 
coming up in her soft and sweet way; and, taking 
the girl out of the room, she closed the door between 
her and The Desmond. ISTow you behave yourself 
while you are here,” she said. Himself is not to 
be worried. You understand that clear and cool. 
Go back and play with my daughters. You can’t 
hurt our pushkeen nor The Desmond himseK for all 
your trying.” 

Tilly was terribly disappointed. What with the 
ferocity of The Desmond and the calm, cool firmness 
of Madam, she had not a chance to get out those 
hateful words, but she would punish pushkeen yet, 
yes she would. She did not go back to join the 
others but sitting in the porch, thought and thought 


THE PIHES. 211 

out her system of revenge. Presently came the sound 
of horses’ feet tramping down the avenue. 

Little Margot leaped to the ground as light as a 
feather, a groom sprang into view and Margot went 
straight up to Tilly. 

Why aren’t you with the others ? ” she said. 

Oh, I have had a glorious ride! ” 

You are a nasty, mean, deceitful thing,” said 
Tilly. They would have kept me on here hut for 
you, and I just downright hate you.” 

Oh, Tilly, you oughtn’t,” said Margot. What 
have I done to you ? ” 

Done! You’ve done enough in all conscience. 
You get everything, I get nothing; and when I went 
and spoke to The Desmond about staying a little 
longer, he said you didn’t wish it—^you, forsooth! 
I must ride that doddering old mare, and you must 
have that beautiful horse Starlight. You must have 
everything and I must have nothing. But I’ll re¬ 
venge myself on you yet, see if I don’t! ” 

I’m sorry, Tilly,” said Margot, in her sweet 
voice, but I do think you ought to go back home 
on Thursday. You have been with us for three 
weeks and we have all tried to give you a good time.” 

You haven’t, so don’t think it,” .said Tilly. 

Well, I did my best. I told you I should have 
to spend most of the time with my grand-dad, and 


212 


THE PINES. 


the people and the place here do belong to me, Tilly, 
and they don’t to you. I’m very, very sorry, but I 
do think you ought to go home. I wouldn’t say it, 
indeed I wouldn’t, if I didn’t most truly think it. 
You’ll have been here three weeks on Thursday, and 
that’s a good long time, Tilly, now isn’t it ? ” 

I’ll have my revenge, I vow I will,” said Tilly. 

I don’t know what you can do, but you must 
just act as you please,” said Margot in a very sad 
voice. “ I did want to make you happy, I did most 
truly, but what was I to do? You wouldn’t be 
happy, try as I would. You can’t ride like a Des¬ 
mond; it isn’t in you.” 

“ Little shopkeeper, don’t talk any more,” said 
Tilly, and she dashed out of sight, crying as she 
went. 

iN’ow it so happened that while Matilda Haynes 
was planning out her revenge with a certain amount 
of skill, little Margot had taken off her habit and 
was seated in her favourite place on her grand¬ 
father’s knee. He told her a little about the trouble¬ 
some girl, and Margot begged of him not to mind, 
for it was only her way and she was soon going. 

Thank the Lord for that,” said The Desmond. 

I’d have let her stay, but you put your own bit 
foot down, pushkeen.” 

Oh, yes, grand-dad, it is time she went home. 


THE PIEES. 213 

I’m sorry for her, rather, hut she’s not—not very 
nice, I mean.” 

She’s not nice at all,” said The Desmond. 

She’s a common little brat. What sort of school 
was that they sent you to, light of my eyes? How 
did you come by her sort entirely ? ” 

I couldn’t help it, grand-dad; she was at the 
school. Shall I tell you about my ride on Star- 
light?” 

Yes, do, to be sure. It’s real pretty, to hear 
your sweet voice.” 

So Margot talked and the old man asked ques¬ 
tions. He asked innumerable questions and Margot 
showed that she was a true Desmond by her replies. 
Meanwhile Tilly, her heart set on revenge, was creep¬ 
ing nearer and nearer to the stables and the beautiful 
new loose box which had all been arranged for the 
comfort of Starlight. There, in a certain corner 
hung the new saddle, which had just arrived from 
Cork. 

Malachi was having a gentle snooze in a comer of 
the stall, but he was fond of calling himself a cat 
who invariably slept with one eye open. Tilly had 
not the least idea that he was there, but he saw her 
all the time. She thought herself quite alone with 
the exception of Starlight and the new saddle. She 
did not guess even for a moment that Malachi had 
opened that one eye of his very wide; in fact, that 


214 


THE PINES. 


he had opened both eyes. Tilly produced out of her 
pocket a pincushion, which contained pins of differ¬ 
ent sorts and degrees. These she cleverly inserted 
in the lining of the new saddle. 

Malachi watched her, his eyes twinkling. She put 
the saddle hack in its place, hut did not do it well, 
for the saddle fell. ^Nevertheless, Malachi did not 
stir. Tilly now rushed out of the stable. Her re¬ 
venge was in sure progress of beginning and acting 
wrll. When she was quite out of sight, Malachi rose, 
picked up the saddle, which was bristling with pins, 
and removed all of them except one. This he left 
in, placing it carefully and with skill in such a 
position that whoever rode on Starlight would drive 
the obnoxious pin a little way into the animahs hide. 
He very carefully folded up the rest of the pins in 
a piece of paper, slipped them into his vest pocket 
and entered the house. During the whole of that 
evening he was in the highest spirits and laid him¬ 
self out to entertain Tilly. 

The next morning he went to his father and said 
that as this was the very last day that Tilly Kaynes 
would spend with them she might as well have a 
little bit of a ride on Starlight. His face was all 
over twinkles as he made the request. 

It won’t do the beastie any harm,” he said, and 
pushkeen will lend Tilly her habit.” 




THE PINES. 215 

Of course I will,” said puslikeen, wlio was feel¬ 
ing a little bad at Tilly’s cruel words. 

Accordingly, at breakfast time, Malacbi turned to 
Tilly, told her that he had been considering matters, 
and did not see why she should not ride quite as 
well as the pushkeen, and if she liked he would take 
her out that morning on the pushkeen’s thorough¬ 
bred, the pushkeen lending her her habit and he rid¬ 
ing beside her on Brian the Brave. 

Oh, but, but will you really! ” exclaimed Tilly, 
then she remembered the pins and became very grave 
and distrait. 

Please, Malachi,” said Tilly, may I run round 
to the stables first ? I want to look at Starlight be¬ 
fore I mount him.” 

And what would ail ye not to ? ” said Malachi. 

Tilly rushed as fast as she could to the stables, 
entered the one containing Starlight and taking 
down the new side-saddle began to search for the 
pins, but Malachi had been too clever for Till, for 
he had placed the one pin in such a way that it 
would soon begin to annoy Starlight and in such a 
position that Tilly could not find it. 

She came back to the house in the highest spirits 
for her ride. Someone had removed the pins; she 
was quite safe. She would show the Irish Margot 
what riding really meant 


CHAPTEE Xiy. 


START IGHT AND TILLY. 

Tilly felt very proud of herself when she put on 
Margot’s smart little dark-blue habit, and although 
the crimson cap certainly did not look as well on 
her nondescript sort of hair as it had done on Mar¬ 
got’s, she imagined that it did, which comes after 
all to the same thing. 

Malachi was in the best of spirits, his face was 
all twinkles and light and laughter. His sisters ac¬ 
companied him as he brought Starlight and Brian 
the Brave round to the mounting block. 

You are kind, you are kind,” said Tilly, trying 
to show some of her gratitude in her face. 

Ah, to be sure, why wouldn’t I ? ” said Malachi. 
“ Here, spring up, missie, you must be quick, for 
he’s a thoroughbred, remember, he’s not like the old 
mare, but when we get him right under way and you 
show no fear, which of course you haven’t got, we’ll 
have a fine spin together on the King’s highroad.” 

Matilda felt altogether uplifted, as she expressed 
it. The awful pins had been in some mysterious 
216 


STARLIGHT AND TILLY. 


217 


way removed. Who had done it? One of the 
grooms, she supposed, and yet there was malicious 
laughter in Malachi’s bright dark eyes. 

‘‘ Now then, no time to lose,” he said. Stand 
back, gurrls, both of you, you’ll have your rides this 
afternoon, but it is fair enough that missie should 
have her turn on this her last day and she so brave— 
my word, so wonderful brave! Now then, put your 
foot on my hand, stand on this block and spring.” 

Tilly, very much excited because of the new habit, 
highly pleased at having got the victory, feeling quite 
sure that she could outdo Margot in the art of rid¬ 
ing, sprang into her saddle in her somewhat awkward 
fashion. 

Starlight looked askance with almost a wicked look 
in his eye at the creature on his back. Notwith¬ 
standing the habit and the red cap, she was not 
Margot. She did not know how to sit on him com¬ 
fortably. He began to feel a sense of annoyance 
and a great desire to get rid of her, but Malachi 
whistled to him softly, somewhat as a thrush whistles 
to her young. Ah, well, he understood that note. 
He settled down to endure and do his best. 

He thought, in his dear horsey mind, how very 
easily he could pitch the thing that he didn’t like 
off his back and get rid of her forever when they 
reached the wide ditch. He did not object to trying 


218 


STARLIGHT AND TILLY. 


the wide ditch this morning, anything to get rid of 
the thing on his back. 

Tilly, for a moment, felt inclined to scream. 

Don’t let out any noise for the Lord’s sake,” 
said Malachi. You’ll set him off if you do and 
when he does go, it is like a lightning flash, I can 
tell you. You say you are brave, prove it! Ah, 
that’s better. Hold yourself erect, but for the Lord’s 
sake don’t keep the reins so tight. You don’t want 
to strangle the creature. Sit easy, for Heaven’s sake, 
just as though you were part of Starlight and he 
was part of you. That’s the way to ride. That’s 
the way pushkeen rode yesterday.” 

They had passed the tumble-down gate by this 
time and Tilly had partly recovered her courage. 

I can ride better than la Comtesse,” she said. 
“ I have had far more experience.” 

Have ye now ? Ye weren’t bom a Desmond, by 
any chance ? ” 

Ho, I’m a Kaynes. The Kayneses are-” 

You needn’t tell me,” said Malachi. They are 
the finest family in the whole of England. They 
can skim the air on a horse’s back like a bit of a 
bird. Once you put ’em on, you can’t get ’em off. 
Those are the Hayneses for you. I know the breed, 
otherwise I wouldn’t have mounted you on push- 
keen’s thoroughbred.” 



STARLIGHT AND TILLY. 


219 


Why do you call her pushkeen ? It is a very 
ugly name. She’s nothing whatever hut a little 
Prench shopgirl. I told you so my own self, Mal- 
achi.” 

^‘Did ye now? Well, ye see I wasn’t listening. 
I never listen to untruths.” 

“ But this isn’t an untruth. Oh, my, Malachi— 
I’m—I’m frightened! ” 

Whatever are ye frightened about. Miss Eaynes 
of England ? Maybe as you are so uncommon brave, 
we might try a bit of cross-country riding. Why 
there you are again, jumping like anything. What¬ 
ever has come to ye ? It seems to me you are a sort 
of cuckoo in the nest of the Hayneses.” 

I’m not, indeed I’m not. But he does jump so. 
See, look for yourself. Oh, please, Malachi, hold 
him. He doesn’t like me; he’s got a wicked sort of 
spirit in him.” 

Maybe his saddle isn’t easy,” said Malachi. 

You sit still and I’ll settle it. Eor the Lord’s sake 
don’t let him think you are afraid of him or you are 
done, done black and blue.” 

Malachi slipped off Brian the Brave and without 
in the least disturbing Tilly managed to push the 
pin a little further out so that it might work a surer 
and a graver mischief. 

How we are all right,” he said, jumping on his 


/ 


220 STARLIGHT AND TILLY. 

own gallant steed. Go it Starlight, old boy, why 
it’s one of the Eayneses you have got on your back. 
Think of that. Starlight, old chap! ” 

Starlight certainly did think of it and thought of 
it with growing passion and indignation. The pin 
had now thoroughly worked its way through his 
satiny hide and he was altogether beside himself with 
rage. 

Just then an old-fashioned lumbering motor car 
came by. This was the finish to Starlight. He 
reared upright, bolt upright in the air, shook Tilly 
off him as though she was a fly, left her sitting on 
the road and immediately relieved from his burden 
began to munch some delicious green grass from the 
roadside. 

I’m killed, Malachi, I’m killed,” sobbed Tilly. 

“Well, to be sure, are you now? ” said Malachi. 
“ I’m thinking perhaps ’twas a pin. I don’t think 
you are killed, but you might have been if I hadn’t 
let you down soft. I took all the pins out, I thought.” 

“ What pins ? ” said Tilly, turning very white. 

“ What pins! Oh, but ye are a nasty little beg¬ 
gar ; didn’t I watch you when ye were sticking them 
all over the inside of the saddle yesterday? Ye 
didn’t guess I was having a snooze in the loose box. 
I often sleep there when I’m partial to the beasts. 
Well, to be sure, I put the pins in a packet. Here 


STARLIGHT AND TILLY. 


221 


they are, you can look at them. How many do you 
reckon you put in ? ” 

I don’t remember—oh, none! Don’t scold me,. 
Malachi! ” 

Don’t scold ye, ye little liar! ” 

Malachi, I tell you I am dying, I am going to< 
faint, I know I am.” 

“ Well, faint away, colleen, it doesn’t matter to 
me!” 

This remarkable announcement on the part of 
Malachi had also a remarkable effect in restoring 
Tilly’s nerves. It was no use to faint if nobody 
cared. How dreadful Tilly felt, how sore and 
bruised and broken. 

Malachi led the two horses to the nearest tree, and 
fastened them there with a piece of rope, which he 
always kept handy in his pocket. He then proceeded 
to unfasten Starlight’s saddle and to remove the ob¬ 
noxious pin. It was a black pin, deep and strongs 
and it had already made a decided mark on the satin 
coat of the lovely horse. 

How how came this here, to be sure ? ” said he, 
going over to Tilly. I must have missed this, to 
be sure I did. And here are the others. We will 
put them all together. Ten pins. Upon my word^ 
it’s a goodly number. I want you to make a present 
of ’em, Tilly.” 


^22 STARLIGHT AND TILLY. 

present?’’ answered the girl, raising her 
white and terrified face. 

Yes, to be sure, a present to The Desmond, and 
you are to tell him why you put them in, and you 
are to do it at dinner to-day with the pushkeen look¬ 
ing at you. You are not hurt a hit, no, not a hit. 
You are shook up, whereas you deserved to die, and 
you may he thankful you are let off so easy. I’m 
thinking that after you have told the true story of 
the pins, the story of the shop will go in one ear 
and out of the other, so far as The Desmond is con¬ 
cerned. The Rayneses may he fine riders—I’m not 
taking from their merits, not I—hut they are hlack 
hig liars, too, that I can swear hy. iYow then, get 
up, I’ll mount ye on Starlight. He’ll go as easy as 
a lamh now that that hlack horror isn’t pricking him 
to death. We’ll just get hack in time for lunch.” 

Oh, Malachi, I—I can’t mount that horse again. 
He fairly terrifies me, and as to that story you want 
me to tell about the pins, do you think I’d disgrace 
myself before your father, and me so frightened of 
him ? ” 

'^Yery well, Tilly, you can keep silent and I’ll 
tell. But he’s got to know.” 

It isn’t true, it isn’t true,” wailed Tilly. 

Whist, for the Lord’s sake, don’t let out any 
more hlack ones. Did ye ever see a cat asleep ? ” 


STARLIGHT AND TILLY. 


223i 


Why, yes, Malachi, I suppose I have.” 

Have you got a cat at your home ? ” 

Yes, my stepmother has a cat.” 

Well, you watch it the next time it dozes, then 
you’ll learn once and forever how a cat sleeps, with 
one eye half open, never more, never less. Well that 
eye is on, we’ll call it the alert, for mice or birds or 
any kind of prey. I was lying like the cat, with my 
one eye open, when I saw you come along. Soon, 
from being half opened, it was whole opened, and 
the other eye was opened, too, and I saw ye sticking 
in the pins. So ye can’t get out of it, Tilly Eaynes 
from England. Very badly ye did your job, very 
badly, entirely, but when ye left the stables, I crept 
out all choking with laughter and I thought I’d pun¬ 
ish ye after all. I took out nine of the pins alto¬ 
gether, for one properly managed could do the job 
better than your ten, anyhow. Then I palavered ye 
a bit and got ye to ride on Starlight. I meant it as 
a punishment and the punishment will end when ye 
have confessed the truth, the whole truth, and noth¬ 
ing but the truth to The Desmond and made him a 
present of the ten pins. You thought you’d kill his 
pushkeen because you were mad with jealousy. 
Well, now you have just got to do what I say and no 
bones about it whatsomdever! ” 

Oh, Malachi, oh, Malachi, I can’t.” 


224 


STARLIGHT AND TILLY. 


But I say ye can! 1^11 keep the pins till the 

minute arrives, and as ye won’t mount Starlight, I 
must walk the two horses home. We are a good bit 
out and we’d best start at once. You keep in front 
of me, for I’m not going to lose sight of ye, not for a 
moment. How, then, Till Baynes of England, march 
is the word! ” 

It was a very miserable, draggled little girl, with 
a white face considerably scratched from her fall, 
who arrived at Desmondstown just as the stable clock 
struck one. Malachi gave the horses over to his own 
special groom and followed Tilly to her bedroom. 

I’ll he standing outside the door waiting for 
you,” he said. Go in and take off the habit and 
wash that scratch off your face, for it ain’t pretty, to 
say the least of it.” 

Oh, but please, I don’t want any lunch,” said 
Tilly. 

You’ll come down and take your place at the 
table. It don’t matter in the least whether ye eat 
or not.” 

Tilly felt herself sore and beaten and bruised. 
She had met her master in Malachi and could not 
get rid of him. In the end she put on a neat white 
frock and went downstairs and took her place at the 
long table. There was a huge sirloin of beef, and 
new potatoes and peas, and quantities of raspberries 


STARLIGHT AND TILLY. 


225 


and cream on the sideboard. Altogether it was a 
refreshing and tempting repast and not one she was 
likely to get in her own poor home. 

Malachi deliberately seated himself beside her^ 
He pretended to be very attentive to her. Margot 
was openly affectionate and asked eagerly how she 
had enjoyed her ride. 

Oh, to be sure, she is a wonder, no less,’^ said 
Malachi, but don’t bother her with talking toG 
much till she has got a little food inside her. I 
didn’t know she was one of those celebrated 
Hayneses. Why they can ride a bear, a bull, a cow,, 
anything! She let it all out to me to-day when she 
was scampering so gaily on Starlight.” 

I never heard of any Haynes who could ride,” 
said The Desmond. 

You’ve got an ugly scratch on your cheek,” said 
Horah. “ How did ye come by that. Till ? ” 

Didn’t I say, let her eat her meal in quiet! ”■ 
said Malachi. A gurrl, even though she is a 
Haynes, can’t take it out of a thoroughbred when 
he’s as fresh as Starlight was this morning. How 
eat. Till, eat.” 

He piled her plate with provisions and The Des¬ 
mond did not trouble himself to look at her again. 

You’re a good, a very good little girl,” said Mal¬ 
achi. You’re a true Haynes, that is what you are^ 


226 


STAELIGHT AND TILLY. 


ITow, swallow these peas and get ready for the rasp¬ 
berries and cream.” 

Margot looked on in a puzzled way. She felt sure 
that there was something behind the scenes which she 
would know about later on. Malachi never put on 
that kind of look for nothing. At last the meal came 
to an end, and just at its close Mr. Flannigan ap¬ 
peared on the scene. 

Who’s for Puss-in-the-Corner ? ” he said, glanc¬ 
ing from one young-old aunt co another. 

We’ll have a rare game; it’s a fine afternoon,” 
said Bride. 

Help yourself to some more raspberries, Flan- 
nigan,” said Malachi, and there’s the cream jug 
by you. Pour it on plentiful, for there’s a bit of a 
lark coming on, man. Till and me, we know all 
about it, don’t we. Till ? ” 

Matilda had in reality hardly touched her dinner. 
She felt her head in a whirl and her limbs aching. 
The strangely fierce appearance of The Desmond at 
the head of the board terrified her beyond speaking. 

How, we’ll soon get it over,” said Malachi. 

Here you are. Till, shaking a bit, well. I’ll take 
your little hand. Come along, you know old Mal¬ 
achi well enough by this time.” 

I can’t—I won’t—I can’t! ” sobbed Tilly. 


STAELIGHT AND TILLY. 


227 


For the Lord’s sake don’t have that girl howling 
in my presence,” said The Desmond. 

“ She’s not howling really, father. She’s only 
bringing you a little present. She’s taken a mighty 
fancy to you, dad, and she wants to give you this 
little parcel with her humble respects.” 

I don’t mind taking presents if they are prop¬ 
erly earned and suitable,” said The Desmond. 

What’s the matter with ye, colleen ? I’m not a 
bear or a lion.” 

To be sure no, dad, ye are the finest man in 
Xerry.” 

By this time Malachi and Tilly were standing by 
The Desmond’s chair. Tilly thrust the little packet 
of pins into the old man’s hands and then tried to 
escape, but she was surrounded on all sides, and 
finally it was Mr. Flannigan who brought her back 
to stand by The Desmond’s side and watch his face 
as he opened the paper which contained the strange 
gift. 

Pins! ” he exclaimed. By the mighty arch¬ 
angels, pins! What do I want with them, colleen ? ” 

Tell the story,” said Malachi, who was watching 

her. 

I won’t—I can’t—I can’t! ” sobbed Tilly. 

Then I will,” said Malachi. I have given you 
every chance, and I can’t do more, but The Desmond 


228 


STARLIGHT AND TILLY. 


shall know and you shall stand by and look at him 
as he hears those black wicked lies of yours—^no 
less-’’ 

Whereupon Malachi proceeded to enlighten his 
old father with regard to the pins which Tilly had 
inserted in the thick deep lining of Starlight^s sad¬ 
dle. 

He told his story with great verve and passion and 
made far more of it than Tilly herself would have 
done. He did not conceal the motive for a moment. 
He did not attempt to shield the naughty and un- 
happy girl. Towards the end of the narrative, The 
Desmond stood up. It was very awful when The 
Desmond stood up. He looked so much bigger than 
anyone else, and so much fiercer. His black eyes 
seemed to eat through Tilly. The fire in them 
seemed to burn into her. 

You go/* he said, not to-morrow, but to-day t 
This clergyman, Mr. Flannigan, will see you into 
the train. Vll give him sufficient money to get you 
out of the house. You are a bad, wicked, deceitful 
girl. You wanted to kill my heart’s treasure! How, 
leave the room, and let me never see your face again t 
As to these pins they bring a curse on you, other¬ 
wise they are harmless. You go! Flannigan, will 
you see her off and put her into the train? Hay,, 
it would be safer to put her on board the ship. I 



STAELIGHT AND TILLY. 


229 


didn’t think there was such wickedness anywhere in 
the world, hut I’m learning in my old age; yes, God 
help me, I’m leaiming in my old age. Pack your 
own things and go!^' 

Tilly turned and went like a half-drowned kitten 
out of the room. She was met, however, in the pas¬ 
sage by Margot. Margot’s beautiful black eyes were 
brimful of tears. 

Oh, Tilly, Tilly,” she exclaimed, did you really 
want to kill me ? ” 

I—I—I think I did,” said Tilly. I hated you, 

Margot, and I—I hate you now.” 

Anyhow I’m going to help you to pack, poor 
Tilly. It’s an awful thing to hate, and why should 
you hate one who never hated you ? ” 

Don’t you hate me after this ? ” said Tilly in 
bewilderment. 

Oh, no, indeed; no, I love you because you are 
so miserable.” 

Suddenly Tilly found quite a different order of 
tears filling her eyes. Margot swept her dear, little 
round arms about her and took her quickly upstairs 
and packed for her because she was incapable of 
packing for herself. 

Phinias Maloney’s funny old cart was summoned 
and Tilly and her belongings were packed into it. 


230 


STARLIGHT AND TILLY. 


but the last thing she remembered of Desmondstown 
was the sweet face of little Margot, who kissed her 
hand to her, and whose eyes were brimful of tears 
as she watched her drive awaj. 


CHAPTEK Xy. 


I CANNOT TALK PAELEY-VOUS. 

If ever there was a girl who was furious in her 
own mind it was Matilda Kaynes. She had enjoyed 
her life at Desmondstown. Little did she care for 
the rough and tumble-down old house, the food was 
good, the young-old aunts were jolly of the jolly. 
Malachi and Bruce were great fun. Ah no, how¬ 
ever, Malachi was not great fun! She used to think 
he was, hut she found out her mistake. For a man 
to sleep with one eye open like a cat, for a man de¬ 
liberately to get her into a hole, for a man deliber¬ 
ately to betray her and force her to tell her horrible 
mean little story—oh, no, she could not like Malachi 
any more. 

She also dreaded The Desmond inexpressibly, but 
perhaps of all the happy Irish folks the one she 
disliked most was that sweet, loving, forgiving la 
petite Comtesse. How dared she be loving and for¬ 
giving? If she had fought her, Tilly would have 
known what to do, but she did not. She was only 
gentle and a little sad, in fact very sad; and they 
231 


232 I cANisroT talk pakley-vous. 

all, every one of them, made such a fuss about her 
and she was no real Comtesse at all. She was noth¬ 
ing but a little stupid shopgirl. How in the wide, 
wide world was Tilly ever to bear with her again ? 

Mr. Flannigan sat very still by her side. She 
wished heartily that she might have travelled alone- 
to Hosslare. She did not wish for Mr. Flannigan, 
he seemed to have no fun in him and he looked from 
time to time with a sort of horror at Tilly. 

When they first got into the railway carriage it 
was crowded, but by slow degrees the passengers got 
out. They were going, some in one direction, some 
in another, until at last Tilly and Mr. Flannigan 
found themselves alone. Then Mr. Flannigan turned 
his decidedly ungainly back upon Tilly, and having- 
secured that day’s copy of the Cork Constitution be¬ 
gan to read. He would do anything under the sun 
for the Desmonds, but he disliked this job with re¬ 
gard to Tilly. 

At last she could bear his silence and his gravity 
no longer. She sprang from her seat in the opposite 
corner and came and sat facing him. 

How soon shall we get to Eosslare ? ” she asked.. 

Mr. Flannigan very slowly dropped his newspaper,, 
looked fixedly at Tilly and then said in a solemn,, 
very sombre voice, 

I’m not tellin’ ye, for I don’t know.” 


I CANNOT TALK PAKLEY-VOUS. 233 

Oh, Mr. riannigan,” said Tilly, with a choking 
sound in her throat. Are you hating me as much 
as the others ? 

I^m not lovin’ ye at the present moment,” said 
Plannigan. 

He resumed his paper, reading it with such ap¬ 
parent zeal that Tilly might as well not exist. She 
felt more furious than ever. She began to sob, she 
sobbed very loud. Tlannigan took no notice what¬ 
ever of the noise she was making for some time, but 
when it became unbearable he said. 

For the Lord’s sake don’t slobber, girl! ” 

What’s slobber ? ” asked Tilly, who pretended 
not to be acquainted with the word, and who wanted 
at any cost to get Mr. Flannigan into conversation, 
but the clergyman did not reply. He was buried 
again in his newspaper. 

Tilly’s sobs, which she thought so affecting, but 
which the old clergyman called slobber,” grew 
fainter for lack of nutriment. 

By-and-bye they reached Rosslare, where a rather 
small boat was going to cross over to Fishguard. 

Ye’ll have a rough crossing, I’m thinkin’,” said 
Flannigan. The waves look dirty, to be sure. 
Ye’d best go and lie down. I’ll see ye to your cabin 
and then say good-bye. There’s a return train, which 


234 I CANNOT TALK PARLEY-VOUS. 

will take me back to Desmondstown in time for sup¬ 
per.” 

Ob, oh, Mr. Tlannigan,” sobbed Tilly. You 
don’t believe all these bad things of me ? ” 

And why shouldn’t I ? There was the ten pins 
as large as life. Didn’t I count ’em when The Des¬ 
mond was tollin’ ye to begone ? ” 

But you do know, you must know, Mr. Plan- 
nigan, that she is only a shopkeeper-” 

She! I’m not acquainted with your meaning.” 

It’s that horrid Margot,” said Tilly. Have I 
not bought hats from her and robes from her at 
Arles, and don’t I know what she really and truly 
is like?” 

Oh, do ye ? I’m thinkin’ ye don’t. I’ll be 
wishin’ ye a good day now. Miss Tilly. Don’t ye 
try pins on horses again when there are cats about.” 

“ It was a horrid mean thing to do,” said Tilly. 

Anyone else would have called out, but he’s too 
mean.” 

Don’t ye be runnin’ down Malachi,” exclaimed 
Flannigan. Ye wanted to kill or injure the darling 
of the place. I’m thinking one of your stories is 
about as true as the other. Good day to ye now, 
I’m off! ” He gave a queer, awkward nod and dis¬ 
appeared up the companion and along the deck until 
he reached the gangway. 



I CANXOT TALK PAKLEY-VOUS. 235 

Tilly thought herself quite the most miserable girl 
in all the world, but still she might have her revenge 
yet. If she tried very, very, very hard, if The Des¬ 
mond did not believe in the story of the shop, at least 
M. le Comte St. Juste would. It would he her busi¬ 
ness to get things in train and make things very hard 
for the little Comtesse against her return to Arles. 

Tilly Eaynes had a horrible crossing. The boat, 
was small, the sea was rough. She hated all physical 
discomforts. She cried to the stewardess and begged 
of her to stay with her, assuring her that she was a 
very ill-used little girl and had no right to he going; 
in that ricketty old boat at all. 

“ Well you are in it,” said the stewardess, and 
if God is merciful we may yet reach dry land.” 

What do you mean—what do you mean ? ” said 
Tilly, forgetting her terror and hatred of the Des¬ 
monds, in the nearer and possible terror of imminent 
death. 

“ What I say,” replied the stewardess. We are 
like as not to see Davy Jones to-night.” 

“ Whoever is Davy Jones ? ” asked Tilly. 

He’s the king of the bottom of the sea. They 
who sup with him, sup once and never again. How^ 
don’t keep me, little gurrl, see there’s a poor lady 
like to faint in the far saloon from here. You are 
a bit of a coward, I take it, and I can’t stay com- 


236 I CANNOT TALK PARLEY-VOUS. 

forting cowards when there’s real illness and real 
danger.” 

Then Matilda, somehow or other, forgot her deadly 
seasickness and her hatred of the Desmonds and 
shook and trembled in her narrow berth. The wind 
was blowing great guns and the sailors were rushing 
here, there, and everywhere. The captain’s voice 
giving directions sounded to Tilly like great claps 
of thunder. She forgot about the pins and her fall 
from the horse. 

Gradually, as the sea grew rougher and the danger 
greater, she found herself looking in imagination at 
one sweet, dark, sad and yet smiling face. It was the 
face of the little shopkeeper, whom she had tried, 
yes, her very best, to injure, perhaps to kill. How 
she herself was face to face with death. It would 
he awful to go down into the depths of those wild 
and terrible waves. Everyone on hoard seemed un¬ 
easy. 

The little steamer swayed from side to side and 
rocked and shook itself as though it knew that it 
was small and angry and powerless. Thrills of terror 
ran through Tilly’s frame. The captain’s voice was 
heard to say. 

The dangerous time is when-” 

She could not catch the rest of the words. The 
stewardess did not come near her. Women laughed 



I CAITNOT TALK PAELEY-VOUS. 237 

and cried and screamed. Tilly was all alone in her 
little cabin. She wondered how long she would 
take drowning. She could think of nothing but the 
horrors of death. Then all of a sudden she made 
up her mind not to die in a hole. She would creep 
upstairs and be on deck. She had read stories of 
shipwrecks and when the worst came boats were put 
out. The stewardess was a horrid woman and would 
not think of her. Well, she would think of herself. 
She would be one of the very first to leave the boat 
when the appalling hour of danger came, when they 
got to the—that unpronounceable name which she 
could not catch. 

But it was all very well for Tilly to try to get 
out of her berth, she found she could not. The sea 
took her and threw her back again into it. The sea 
tossed her against the side of her narrow berth, and 
she had to cling on with one hand to an extremely 
narrow rail and with the other to the top of the 
berth. The sea roared, the winds roared. Showers 
of foam flung themselves against the port-hole. The 
combined sounds spoke of nothing but death, death, 
death! 

ITever in all her life had she been so miserable 
before. Even The Desmond and Malachi were noth¬ 
ing to this anguish. She would sink to the bottom 
of the deep, deep sea and no one would be very, very 


238 I CANNOT TALK PAKLEY-VOUS. 

sorry. Why should they ? Had she ever made any¬ 
one love her ? Her father—had he not punished her 
and been cross to her all her days! Her stepmother 
—had she not been sly and told false things about 
Tilly ? Well, they would not have any more trouble 
with her again; she would eat her last supper with 
Davy Jones. 

She felt confused, slightly raving! What sort of 
supper would he give her? Dishes, of course, all 
sorts of fishes and then afterwards the big fishes 
would eat her and no one would lament unless per¬ 
haps, perhaps Margot! But no, it was impossible to 
think that Margot would be sorry. Why should a 
shopgirl be sorry? She, Margot, was only that— 
nothing more at all, although they did make such a 
fuss about her at Desmondstown. 

Suddenly in the midst of her meditations there 
came a curious and remarkable lull. She no longer 
found it necessary to cling to either one side or the 
other of the berth. It seemed as though someone, 
she thought it was Margot, had poured oil on the 
disturbed waters. Might she, could she, would she 
be allowed to save even such a wicked girl as Tilly ? 

Tilly acknowledged now that she was wicked and 
that Margot was good and then all of a sudden the 
stewardess bustled in. 

Dor the Lord^s sake get up, missie,’’ she said in 


I CAOTOT TALK PARLEY-VOUS. 239 

a cheerful tone. “ I couldn’t come near ye with 
others so had, but we are in harbour, thank the Lord, 
and all danger is over. Yes, we had a rough night, 
mighty rough. I’ve never gone through a worse, 
but I couldn’t stay along of cowards. Here’s your 
jacket, missie. I’ll slip it on ye, and here’s your hatt 
You do look bad, but we are very late in, and if 
you want to catch your train for London, ye’d best 
hurry up. Shall I get a porter for your luggage, 
missie ? ” 

Tilly answered “ yes ” in a meek sort of voice and 
then she gave the stewardess who had done nothing 
for her all night a shilling out of her scanty store. 
Presently she was on dry land and in the train. 
She was not going to eat her supper with Davy Jones, 
she was going to live after all; she had passed 
through a fearful night, but she was going to live. 

Everything was new and fresh to her now, and 
when a boy brought her a cup of tea and a plate of 
bread and butter, she ate greedily and with appetite. 
Then it occurred to her that she ought to wire to 
her father. She had money enough for this, too. 
The Desmond had supplied her with plenty of 
money. 

Mr. Eaynes was a coal merchant on a large scale, 
exceedingly well off. He lived on Clapham Common. 
The house was ugly and without any pretence to 


240 I CAMOT TALK PAELEY-VOUS. 

good looks. Tilly’s stepmotlier met her in London, 
scolded her, shook her, put her hat straight and 
asked her why in the world was she coming home 
so soon. 

Tilly felt all the old wicked feelings rising in her 
breast when her stepmother began to harangue her. 
She immediately said that she was only wasting time 
at Desmondstown and wanted to work very hard in¬ 
deed, so as to get to Arles one week before term 
began. 

The stepmother went on scolding. Tilly hardly 
listened. She was feeling wicked again, but she 
was thankful to be on dry land. They reached the 
big, luxuriously furnished, vulgar-looking house on 
Clapham Common. 

Tilly suddenly felt herself very sick; her step¬ 
mother was fairly kind to her when she was really 
sick. She allowed her to go to bed and sent Mary 
Ann, the house-parlourmaid, upstairs to look after 
her. 

Mary Ann was a favourite with Tilly and listened 
with mouth wide open, ears extended to their utmost, 
and eyes that looked as though they were going to 
spring out of her head, to Tilly’s account of the 
awful storm at sea. She got the girl swiftly and 
quickly into bed and gave her a very little hot tea 


I CANNOT TALK PARLEY-VOUS. 241 

and dry toast, and then Tilly forgot all her miseries 
in sleep. 

It may have been her fall off the back of Star¬ 
light, or it may have been her fearful crossing, but, 
whatever the reason, for a few days Matilda Raynes 
was really ill. She was feverish and the doctor was 
sent for. During the whole of this time she was 
attended by Mary Ann and very occasionally saw 
her stepmother, but never once her father. 

The doctor said she must have got a very severe 
shock of some sort. He told this to her father and 
also to her stepmother. 

When Eaynes, the coal-merchant, discovered that 
his daughter had received a shock and had come back 
home much sooner than she had expected to do so, 
he sat down and wrote a firm, cold letter to Mr. Des¬ 
mond of Desmondstown. He said his child had been 
brought back to him at death’s door and he wanted to 
know the reason of it. Had those wild Irish folk 
been playing pranks with his only child ? He had no 
idea of addressing The Desmond as The. He had 
never heard of such a title, and if he had would not 
have used it. 

At last he received a reply in the neat, firm hand¬ 
writing of Fergus Desmond. Fergus told him of the 
letter not being addressed right which naturally came 
into his possession. His father’s title was The Des- 


"242 I CANNOT TALK PARLEY-VOUS. 

mond. He said lie did not wish, to complain of 
Matilda Haynes, but as her father wished to know 
the truth, he would tell him the truth. He then 
proceeded to give a graphic description of the thor¬ 
oughbred Starlight and of Tilly’s conduct with 
regard to the ten pins. He wasted no words, but 
told the story just as it stood. 

Tilly was sent away by The Desmond. He could 
not possibly have such a wicked girl in his house. 
There was one person whom The Desmond set great 
store by and that was his little granddaughter Mar¬ 
got, or the pushkeen as he called her. Tilly was 
jealous of the pushkeen and when she was not 
allowed to ride her horse she stuck pins into the 
saddle, hoping thereby to injure if not to kill the 
little girl. That was the story; he had nothing more 
to say. He was sorry for Mr. Haynes. 

Haynes passed the letter across, the table to his 
wife, who read it with pursed-up lips and glittering 
pale-blue eyes. 

Well, I must say it was a nasty thing to do,” 
she said. 

It was,” said Haynes. We’ll teach her what’s 
what when she’s better.” 

She’s better to-night, Hobert. Mary Ann says 
she is nearly well.” 


I CANNOT TALK PAKLEY-VOUS. 243 

“ We’ll wait for what’s what until to-morrow,” 
said Kobert Kaynes. 

The next day Tilly was dressed. She had partaken 
of an excellent dinner prepared for her by Mary 
Ann, and a bright little fire burnt in her room. She 
was feeling still weak and tired. Her father came 
in and looked at her. She shrank away from him in 
a sort of terror. 

Oh, you are afraid of me, are you ? ” said the 
coal-merchant. You have good cause to be. Head 
that! ” 

He passed Fergus Desmond’s letter across the 
width of the little table and laid it in Tilly’s hand. 

Take your time,” he said, I’m in no hurry.” 

He sat down deliberately and looked about him. 
Tilly could not see the letters at all at first from a 
queer sense of giddiness. She wished her father 
would go and leave her alone. But he sat quite 
calmly by the fire. 

You’ll just have the goodness to read that 
quietly,” he said. I’m in no manner of hurry. 
Take it in, take it all in I ” 

By degrees Tilly did take it in. She raised terri¬ 
fied weak eyes to her father’s face. 

Oh, daddy, daddy,” she said. Don’t be angry 
with me. She’s only a shopkeeper and they make 


244 I CANNOT TALK PARLEY-VOUS. 

sucli a fuss of her—and I—I’m so weak and miser¬ 
able.” 

Perhaps ye are a bit,” said Kaynes. I’m not 
going to be angry, but ye’ll get your whipping all 
the same.” 

Oh, dad, oh, dad-” 

Yes, child, there’s no escape; just hold on to the 
foot of the bed and bare your two arms and your 
shoulders. I don’t hold with girls who want to 
injure other girls. iN’ow for every time you cry out 
you’ll get an extra stroke, so keep as quiet as you 
can.” 

Tilly knew there was no help for it. Her father 
had brought a light, keen-looking cane into the room 
with him. She had seen it when he had given her 
the letter to read. He slashed right, he slashed left, 
—she kept back her screams. After a time she was 
strangely still, she had fainted. 

Then Mary Ann came up and comforted and 
petted her and put her back to bed and eased her 
sores by some very delicate ointment. Ho one else 
was in the least inclined to be kind. Two days after¬ 
wards, however, Kaynes entered his daughter’s bed¬ 
room. 

There isn’t the making of a lady in you, Tilly,” 
he said, and I’m not going to send you back to 
Arles any more. There’s a cheap school for your 



I CANNOT TALK PARLEY-VOUS. 245 

sort of girl close by, and you can help your step¬ 
mother when you are not working at school, and by 
the time you are sixteen you’ll be sitting in my coal- 
office taking down orders for tons and tons of coal. 
'No more Arles or French, or fine ladies for you! 
Bless my soul, you are a mean little thing! But now 
I want to get at the truth of this. Tell me every 
blessed thing you know about that kind girl you call 
the little shopkeeper.” 

Tilly did tell her story. She told it graphically 
and even with her father’s stern eyes fixed on her 
face, with a certain amount of correctness. She had 
bought hats and robes from la 'petite Comtesse and 
the old man the Comte St. Juste didn’t know, and 
the old man The Desmond in Ireland didn’t know. 

You are sure of your facts ? ” said Baynes, when 
she had stopped. 

Yes, I’m quite positive sure.” 

“ That’s all right then. I punished you, my girl, 
because you did a mean and cruel thing, but I’m not 
going to let the little shopgirl get off Scot free. I 
can’t talk parlez-vous, so I’m going straight to Ire¬ 
land to-night, where I’ll tell the entire story to those 
folks who think themselves so fine. You needn’t 
begin your school-life, my girl, till I come back. This 
has got to be seen to and I’m the man for the job.” 

“ Oh, oh, father, don’t—don’t-” suddenly 



246 I CANNOT TALK PAELEY-VOUS. 

cried Tilly. I see her, she’s in the room, she’s 
looking at me! ” 

Why you are raving mad, child, who’s in the 
room, who’s looking at you ? ” 

La 'petite Comtesse Margot. She was the only 
one who was always kind; even when I stuck pins 
into the saddle she was kind, and I saw her on board 
ship, when I thought I was going to the bottom. Oh, 
hut she’s good, she’s real good and M. le Comte, her 
grandpere, he mustn’t he frightened. He loves her 
like her other grandfather loves her. Oh, father, 
let it he, let it he! ” 

I’m going to Ireland to-night,” was Kaynes’s 
remark. 


CHAPTEE XYL 


THE EEAE OF THE SHILLELAGH. 

The coal-merchant was a man of his word. He 
was hard and cruel and unkind, but in his own way 
he was proud of Tilly. Those people whom he was 
most proud of he liked to train, and he was under 
the impression that he trained his daughter Matilda 
very well. When he heat her, which he did con¬ 
stantly; when he scolded her, he quoted to himself 
the old words, Spare the rod and spoil the child.” 
He felt he was following in the footsteps of Holy 
Writ. He thought himself a very blessed man. 

How in addition to all this scolding and beating 
on the part of the coal-merchant with regard to 
Matilda Eaynes, there was also a strange feeling of 
absolute indifference towards her stepmother. Her 
stepmother’s name was Harriet; and Joshua Eaynes 
thought very little of Harriet. In consequence he 
left her alone. She was only useful in the matter 
of helping him to train Matilda, but he never fussed 
over his second wife, and, as far as possible, let her 
go her own way. 


247 


248 THE FEAR OF THE SHILLELAGH. 

Harriet Kaynes quickly discovered that nothing 
excited Joshua Haynes so much as to talk about Tilly, 
more in especial to talk against Tilly. He used to 
listen with his staring eyes fixed on his wife’s face 
and say Good little woman ” and then go upstairs 
and prove things to his own satisfaction and beat 
Tilly because he loved her enough to consider beating 
essential. 

She would be a very rich woman by-and-bye, for 
the coal-merchant did a thriving business and all 
his money he put by for Tilly. That was the one 
joy of his life. He could hurt her and torture her 
and yet in his queer, unaccountable way, she was the 
only creature he loved. 

He was quite determined, however, to get to the 
bottom of the Irish story. If the thing was true, 
the girl who put on airs and kept a shop should be 
publicly disgraced and he would do it. He would 
enjoy doing it very much. He couldn’t hurt the little 
shopkeeper—not physically, at least—but he could 
make her feel bad, and this he was determined to do. 
Mr. Desmond should feel bad, too, forsooth! What 
name did Tilly call him—The ”—if you please! 
He had never heard of anything so ridiculous in his 
life. He’d soon knock The ” out of the old cur¬ 
mudgeon. 

It was a calm night when Joshua Eaynes took the 


THE FEAR OF THE SHILLELAGH. 249 

boat from Fishguard to Rosslare. He did not go 
through the miseries his child had undergone and he 
steamed away through the calm waters in a boat 
at least three times the size. He had never been in 
Ireland in his life before, and when he arrived at 
Rosslare was much bothered with the tongue em¬ 
ployed by the good-natured country folks. 

He said, Eh, eh, what do you want to tell me ? 
over and over again. He told each individual he 
met that the said individual was stony deaf, and 
also dumb. The Irish person, be it man or woman, 
gossoon or girleen, objected to his manner, refused 
to be considered deaf and dumb when he could sphake 
the beautiful tongue—^the Irish, bedad—to say noth¬ 
ing of that paltry tongue, the English. 

Joshua felt himself getting crosser and crosser 
each moment. What was he to do? How was 
he to hold out? How was he to find the man 
called Desmond who had spoken evil things of his 
Tilly? He did not in the least admire the beauty 
of the country. He had no eye for the green of the 
Emerald Isle nor her lofty mountains, nor her flow¬ 
ing streams and rushing rivers. 

He talked so angrily that people left him alone 
and the train that should have taken him to Mallow 
went off without him. He might have lingered at 
Waterford goodness knows how long, waiting for a 


250 THE FEAR OF THE SHILiELAGH. 

man of the name of Desmond and trying to talk to 
stone-deaf and dumb people, who only talked gib¬ 
berish, when a bright-eyed, sparkling-looking 
individual came suddenly on the platform, stared at 
Joshua, said a few words to the people round and 
presently came up and introduced himself. 

I am told ye are lookin’ for The Desmond,” he 
said. You won’t find his high, great mightiness 
standing in a bit of a shanty like this. I’m Malachi 
Desmond, son of The Desmond. I’ve just had a big 
sale of horses this morning and am going back to 
Desmondstown in a quarter of an hour. If you want 
to see The Desmond I’ve no manner of objection.” 

I want to see Mr, Desmond of Desmondstown,’^ 
said the coal-merchant. 

There isn’t such a person. Mr, Desmond! For 
the Lord’s sake, man, ye are mighty ignorant! ” 

“ Am I, sir? Well, I don’t want you to tell me 
what I hm, and what I am not.” 

Then you listen to me,” said Malachi. The 
Desmond is next door to a king, and he lives in his 
kingdom, and I’m his son, Malachi. Be the powers I 
I wonder if you’re the father of that nasty little bit- 
thing that stuck pins in the saddle of Starlight. I 
wouldn’t be a scrap surprised if you were, nor flus« 
tered neither. You’ve got the same malicious gleam 


THE FEAE OF THE SHILLELAGH. 251 

of the eye. We have cats at Desmondstown and Tm 
one.” 

You are a very big cat,” said Joshua. 

Well, I’m one when I like. Do ye want to see 
The Desmond or do ye not ? ” 

There isn’t such a name, it is silly,” said the 
coal-merchant. 

Don’t ye talk in that sort of way in old Ireland,” 
said Malachi, for at a wink from me, the cat, we’ll 
have all the boys out with their shillelaghs. You’d 
best be careful what you say in our country. The 
Desmond is The Desmond, and he is royal king of 
Desmondstown. By the same token, here’s our train. 
Are ye coming along with me or are ye not ? ” 

I’m coming along,” said Joshua. I’m a man 
of my word. It’s a wild, bad country, but I’m com¬ 
ing along all the same. I want to knock ^ The ’ out 
of a certain person and I’ll do it my own way.” 

We’ll see about that,” said Malachi. Kemem- 
ber the big cat never sleeps.” 

Oh, you are all mad in this dreadful place,” said 
Joshua. I can’t make out what you are driving 
at, but I’ll come with you, for I think I can take 
down your pride a bit.” 

Oh, to be sure, that’s a fine thing to do,” said 
Malachi. Here’s an empty, third-class carriage 
we can have all to ourselves. You might begin pull- 


252 THE FEAR OP THE SHILLELAGH. 

ing out my pride at once. It is stuck very deep, its 
roots go far and they twist and they turn; and by 
the powers; they twist and turn again. But if ye 
give a long pull and a strong pull maybe ye’ll have 
some of them out before I begin to scratch.” 

The coal-merchant was now quite certain that 
Malachi was mad, but he kept his object well in 
view and determined not to show outward fear of 
him. They started on their journey and before they 
got to Mallow, Joshua discovered two things about 
Malachi: first, that he could understand his lan¬ 
guage; and second, that he was a real clever man, 
for nothing so thoroughly impressed the coal-mer¬ 
chant with cleverness as the sight of gold and notes. 

Malachi pulled out a quantity of money from his 
pocket; in fact, some hundreds of pounds. This 
money had been paid partly in notes, and partly in 
sovereigns and was given for a horse called Nora 
Crena and another horse called A Bit of Herself 
and another horse again called Brian the Brave, He 
had made well on these horses but he was very sorry 
to part with Brian the Brave, 

Joshua sat and looked at the man; he looked also 
at the gold and began to respect him. At Mallow 
they changed trains and again were lucky enough 
to have one to themselves. Then Malachi bent for¬ 
ward and said in a grave and very determined voice. 


THE FEAR OF THE SHILLELAGH. 253 

'Now what may you be wanting to see The Des¬ 
mond for ? ’’ 

“ He’s not The Desmond/’ said Joshua. 

He is. Let that drop. Anyhow what do you 
want to see him for ? ” 

He has turned my child out of his house; he 
told her to go and she was all hut drowned on the 
deep sea.” 

She stuck ten pins into the saddle of Starlight,” 
remarked Malachi. She did it to injure our push- 
keen. It was proved against her and she couldn’t 
deny it. If your name is Haynes, you’re a great 
horseman, I take it.” 

Horseman, not I! I never sat on a horse in my 
life.” 

Dear! To be sure! Your girl rode elegant.” 

Did she ? ” answered Haynes, feeling a little 
proud in spite of himself. 

She did that, she rode like a sylph. I didn’t 
think at first she had it in her, but she was like a 
bird on Starlight. You see it was this way. I was 
having one of my cat’s snoozes in Starlight’s loose 
box. Starlight wasn’t properly broken in at that 
time, and I was mighty feared to put any young 
gurrl on him who didn’t understand the nature of 
the beast.” 

You were right there,” growled Haynes. 


254 THE FEAR OF THE SHILLELAGH. 

Well, so I thought I was. And when your bit 
girleen come and said to me, ^ Let me ride Starlight,^ 
I says ^ I^o, I value your precious life too much.’ ” 

Quite right, too, quite right, too,” said Joshua. 

Then you see she was a bit put out, and no 
wonder with her gift for riding. And she came slip¬ 
ping into the stable and never saw me having my 
cat’s sleep in the loose box, and she fetched down 
the saddle that had just come from Cork city for 
our little bit of a pushkeen, and if you’ll believe me, 
she stuck ten pins into it; yes, ten—every one I 
reckoned. I kept both my eyes wide open and she 
went away humming to herself and as pleased as 
Punch. Then I took nine of the pins out, for what 
was the good of injuring the beautiful creature 
more than was necessary for my purpose, and I told 
her she might have a ride on Starlight if pushkeen 
would lend her her new saddle. You may be quite 
certain she was not behindhand in that, was push- 
keen—she’s the best-natured little lambkin that auld 
Ireland has ever seen. So I mounted Miss Tilly on 
Starlight and rode Brian the Brave meself, and there 
was only one pin in the saddle, but I contrived it 
proper to pierce the hide of the creature. Oh, but she 
rode like a bird, like a bird, and I was ashamed of 
meself for misdoubting her. And then we talked of 
all the famous Eayneses of England, who took every 


THE FEAR OF THE SHIELELAGH. 255 

prize worth mentioning in yonr queer sort of country, 
and she said she was hurt at me for doubting her, and 
of course when I knew she was one of those Rayneses 
I was altogether up a tree; yes, to he sure, that I 
was. Well, what do ye think ? all of a sudden she 
lets out a screech,—and a motor car, the De’iks own 
contrivance, comes splashin’ and roarin’ round the 
corner, and Starlight stood holt upright on his hind¬ 
legs and I helped missie to a soft fall hy the road¬ 
side. Then I made her tell The Desmond-” 

Mr. Desmond, if you please,” said Raynes. 

I made her tell The Desmond the story, and he 
said she was to go and go at once, and she did go, 
and Flannigan, our good Protestant curate, saw her 
off, and that’s all I can tell you about her. She’s not 
altogether a very nice child, even though she is a 
Raynes of England, hut I can’t make out for the 
life of me what you are wantin’ at Desmondstown. 
You may as well tell me, for I may he able to help 
you.” 

I’m most hitter ashamed of Tilly,” said Raynes, 
when the other man had ceased speaking. She has 
told a shocking lot of black lies, and her wanting to 
injure and perhaps kill the little shopkeeper is per¬ 
haps the worst of all.” 

The little shopkeeper—my word! What next! ” 

I’m coming to that in a minute or two,” said 



256 THE FEAR OF THE SHILLELAGH. 

Eaynes. She was a bad little piece and IVe pun¬ 
ished her according, and I’ll punish her still more 
for the lies she told about us and horses. Why, man, 
I’m a ‘coal-merchant, that’s what I am. I am making 
my pile and a goodly one it will he if the Lord spares 
me. But we don’t any of us know any more about 
horses than you know how to act the cat. We are 
nothing but coal-merchants, that’s what we are.” 

Well, there is nothing wrong in that,” said Mala- 
chi. It seems a pity she descended to lies. But, 
now whatever is your business with us, Mr, 
Baynes ? ” 

I’ve come for the express purpose of exposing 
that young girl you make such a fuss about. She 
was nothing at all hut a little shopkeeper at Arles 
and you set her up to he a fine lady.” 

She wasn’t no shopkeeper at Arles,” said Mala- 
chi. I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

Well, hut I do, and I’ve come over all this long 
way for the express purpose of having it cleared up. 
I’ve punished my Tilly and I’ll punish her more. 
There came a time in my life when I thought to 
make a fine lady of my Matilda and I sent her to 
Arles to the school of a woman who called herself 
a princess, but Tilly will never be a lady. She’ll 
keep in her father’s station and have to be content. 
How, I’ve listened in patience to your story and I’m 


THE FEAR OF THE SHILLELAGH. 25T 

very angry indeed with my girl, but there’s no doubt 
whatever that right is right, whether it is on the 
left side or the right, and that child you think such a 
power of spends her time at Arles selling hats and 
dresses. She’s the little shopkeeper, that’s what she 
is. She has sold hats and dresses to my girl and 
that’s how my girl knows.” 

We’re nearly at home by now,” said Malachi. 

Phinias Maloney will have his bit of a cart waiting 
for us. I’ll look into this matter for ye, Mr.—^Mr. 
Paynes. You keep it dark until I give the word.” 

“ You’re certain sure you won’t act the cat on 
me ? ” said Paynes. 

'Noj no; I should have to be a very wide-aw^ke 
cat to act that little game on you. I’m going to ask 
Phinias Maloney to put you up for the present and 
I’ll be round when the moment comes that you wish 
to tell my father.” 

I don’t know that I want to put up for the 
night at the house of the man you call Phinias 
Maloney.” 

You couldn’t do better, his house is clean of the 
clean, and Annie his wife will give you her bedroom 
and sleep along of the children, and himself will lay 
on the settee near the fire. How then, here we are. 
I expect ye are a bit hungry. There ain’t one in the 


258 THE FEAK OF THE SHILLELAGH. 

countryside for frying eggs and bacon to compare 
with our Annie. Hullo, Pbinias, here ye are! ” 

The funny little springless cart was brought up. 
Malachi had a short and very earnest conversation 
with Phinias, who gave one very solemn twitter of 
his eyelid but made no further comment of any sort 
whatsoever. Presently the three men got under way 
and Paynes, who really felt himself very tired, not 
to say exhausted and ravenously hungry, began to 
turn his attention with keen desire to Annie’s eggs 
and bacon. 

Malachi parted company with Paynes at the 
broken-down gate of Desmondstown. He assured 
Paynes that he would have a word with him that 
evening, and left him in the complete care of Phinias, 
who talked the entire way to the cottage of the power 
of the celebrated shillelagh. 

Be all that’s howly,” he said, it would smash 
a man’s brains out whilst he was a-thinkin’. Every 
man in these parts kapes wan; they’re better than 
any guns I’ve heerd tell on.” 

Paynes felt decidedly uncomfortable. He ven¬ 
tured to ask what shape a shillelagh was, but 
Phinias’s reply was. 

They’re meant for killing, it don’t matter the 
shape! To be sure now, Annie, mavoumeen, here’s 
a gent from England, own father to that dear little 


THE FEAE OF THE SHILLELAGH. 259 

Miss Tilly. He^s mad with the hunger. You get 
him as many new-laid eggs and rashers of bacon and 
bread and butter and fresh milk and cream and tea 
as you think he can swaller. Don’t overdo the man, 
but do him well, for the sake of dear little Miss 
Tilly.” 

Annie felt very much inclined to say that she was 
never dear little Miss Tilly to her, but there was a 
look in her husband’s face which caused her to 

kape herself to herself.” 

Accordingly the childer were swept out of the 
room. Raynes from England was given the only 
decent bedroom in the house and presently Annie 
appeared with a great tray, which contained half a 
dozen fried eggs, as many rashers of home-cured 
bacon, bread and butter, and a great jug of milk, 
besides rich cream and tea. 

That’ll do,” said Raynes, who felt almost sink¬ 
ing from sheer exhaustion. 

Annie went away and communed with her hus¬ 
band. Raynes ate until he could eat no more, and 
then thought he couldn’t do better than explore the 
premises a little. But he was met at the doorway 
by no less a person than Phinias himself. Phinias 
was twiddling his shillelagh in the air, and it cer¬ 
tainly looked a weapon that could not be trifled with; 
that is, if it was turned against you. 


260 THE FEAR OF Till: SIIILI.ELAGH. 

I^d like to try it/’ said Raynes, somewhat 
timidly. 

“ You try it— you! You don’t know the swing 
of the thing; you ’as to he out in the air in the 
first place, and the next you ’as to swing it 
through the air with a sort of a swish, and then 
down it comes—crack! ” 

“ Oh, well, I don’t mind about it,” said Raynes. 

I’m a harmless man, I don’t want to hurt anybody. 
I’m just going out for a bit of a stroll.” 

Il^o, you ain’t,” said Phinias. “ You’ll stay just 
where you are until you have spoken your mane and 
dirty words agin our little Miss Pushkeen. The 
jintlemens will come to see you all in good time, 
and as soon as ever they have gone. I’ll have the 
greatest pleasure in life in driving ye back to the 
railway station where ye can take ship for England, 
and you and your low-down girl Tilly can meet 
again.” 

“ I tell you, I tell you— ” said Raynes, almost 
stupid with rage, that the little miss you make such 
a fuss about is only-” 

Come out into the yard and tell me about her 
there,” said Phinias. 

ITo, I won’t, not while you hold that thing in 
your hand.” 

“ I’m not going out without it, so don’t you think 



THE FEAR OF THE SHILLELAGH. 261 

it. And I’m standing just here to pervent ye takin’ 
a fly in’ lep unbeknownst. Oh, be the powers! We 
are all right now, I’m thinkin’. Here’s master 
Malachi and ^ himself ’ coming across the fields. 
They’ll be here in no time.” 

Is he the one they call by the ridiculous name 
of '' The ' f asked Eaynes. 

’Tain’t ridiculous. Whist, now, hide yer ignor¬ 
ance if ye can. They have shillelaghs as well as we. 
You sphake up to him.” 

I’m not afraid,” said Joshua. 

To be sure you aren’t. How could the father 
of Tilly mavourneen be afraid ? ” 

That’s what I’m thinkin’,” said Eaynes. 

Ah, thin, jintlemen, here ye be. Welcome to 
my hovel. The Desmond, asthore. Welcome, Mas¬ 
ter Malachi. The gent is gettin’ a bit restive. He’s 
anxious to see ye, to relieve a burden on his mind.” 

I am, and I don’t like those sticks you hold,” 
said Eaynes. 

The man, who for the time being had adopted the 
name of The Desmond, was in reality Fergus, the 
heir to that ancient title. He immediately laid his 
stick on the table. Phinias went out into the yard 
whistling. Malachi shook hands with Eaynes, as 
though he was his oldest and dearest friend, whom 
he had not met for at least twenty years. 


262 THE FEAE OF THE SHILLELAGH. 

I hope ye are feelin’ comfortable, sir/’ he said. 

Very much so/’ replied Haynes, if I might get 
a breath of the air and not be frightened to death 
by that queer man. I want to walk over to Des- 
mondstown to see Mr. Desmond.” 

I brought him to you,” said Malachi. Here’s 
The Desmond. Be careful you don’t anger him, or 
he may raise the stick.” 

Certainly Eaynes never felt in a poorer case. 
Fergus, who already was well acquainted with the 
story of his beloved little Margot, allowed Baynes 
to relieve his feelings, looking at him with his steady 
dark eyes and his calm, unemotional face. Malachi 
was as usual all twinkles and smiles. 

Baynes told his story very badly and, when he 
came to an end, Fergus rose to his feet, and said in 
his refined, gentlemanly voice. 

Well, now, this is no news to me. It is the 
French stepgrandmother’s doing and must be put a 
stop to. I’ll see that it is put a stop to and I’m 
greatly obliged to you for tollin’ me the whole story 
from first to last, so graphically as you have done, 
Mr.—Mr. Baynes.” 

I’m obliged to you, Mr, Desmond,” said Baynes. 

That’s right, call me anything you like. I’m not 
particular.” 


THE FEAR OF THE SHILLELAGH. 263' 

“ The car is at the door. We had best be starting, 
if ye want to catch yez train,” said Phinias. 

“ Oh, yes, yes,” cried the coal-merchant, who was 
only too terribly anxious to get out of the land of 
the shillelagh. 

Phinias and he were soon driving rapidly in the 
uncomfortable cart to the railway station. He never 
felt so pleased in his life as when he got into the 
train. He was heard to remark to one or two far¬ 
mers on his return journey that The Desmond, 
ridiculous name, looked a very young man.” The 
farmers stared but made no comment. 

Thus did Malachi and Fergus save their father 
from a shock, which would have undoubtedly half 
killed him, for the Irish pride is like no other pride. 
It sinks into the heart, it eats the very vitals and has 
been known many and many a time to destroy life. 


CHAPTEK XVIL 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 

When one is young and when one is happy time 
goes fast; nay, more, time goes like lightning. There 
is the beautiful joy of existence, there is the exquisite 
feeling of love. There is the happiness in which 
each hour is occupied, fully, entirely, completely, for 
the use of others. Such was the case with little 
Margot St. Juste. She played with the sunshiny 
passing hours, she sat on The Desmond’s knee and 
brought back such superb and astounding accounts 
of her rides on Starlight that something stirred in 
the old man’s breast and he felt that he himself must, 
forsooth, go a-riding with this fascinating little 
colleen. 

Accordingly the King of the Desmonds was 
brought out and Malachi rode at one side of little 
Margot and The Desmond himself at the other. The 
old horse knew quite well who was on his back and 
in some remarkable measure got back some of his 
lost youth, and noble were the exercises which the 
three riders took over hills and dales, across country, 
264 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 205 

over different stiles and various impediments, and 
each day The Desmond felt younger and laughed 
and talked more cheerily. 

The pushkeen had not only brought him hack joy, 
but she had brought him back his lost youth. Ah, 
but those were happy days and neither child nor old 
man thought of the inevitable return to Arles which 
was coming nearer, like a black cloud, day by day. 

When Haynes returned to his large and vulgar 
house on Clapham Common, he spoke to his daugh¬ 
ter in a way which she was never likely to forget. 
He was, in short, furiously angry. He told her she 
was a bad, bad girl and that the High School at 
Clapham was far too good for her. Tilly had always 
known that the said High School was good, in fact, 
a great deal too good, but she wanted, if possible, to 
punish Margot. Although it was now finally settled 
that she was not to return to the school of la Prin- 
cesse de Fleury, she could, nevertheless, work mis¬ 
chief, as far as Margot was concerned. She knew the 
exact date on which the little shopkeeper would 
return to Arles, when she would be petted by her 
doting and ignorant grandfather and when morning 
after morning she would enter the great etahlisse- 
ment and sell chapeaux and robes innumerable to 
the elite of Arles, the elite of England, the elite of 
America. Oh, yes, she had a friend who would help 


266 IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 

her. She would write to this friend. The friend’s 
name was Louise Grognan. 

Louise Grognan was a considerable character on 
her own account, was liked at the school of la 
Princesse, and was always very friendly with Tilly.. 
Tilly wrote to her now as follows: 

Oh, Louise,” she began, I am not coming back 
any more to your beautiful school. I regret this for 
many reasons, but my French by the ignorant people 
here is considered perfect and I am in consequence 
to be taught the tongue of England in all its branches. 
Think not that I will forget you, Louise, and some^ 
time, perhaps, your good pere will allow you to 
come to visit me in my father’s grand house. It is 
rich and very grand and nobly furnished. Your 
pere Grognan can make the filet de sole, the sauce 
Hollandaise, the entree bouche d la reine, but 
my father—ah, wait until you behold him, sweet 
Louise! How then, to business. You know that 
little Comtesse who sells chapeaux of all sorts and 
descriptions and robes of all sorts and makes, at the 
etablissement of Madame Marcelle. We call her 
here the little shopkeeper and she likes it not. I 
went to stay with her at Desmondstown, a ram¬ 
shackle old place, where they played a very cruel 
trick on me, and when I told them that la petite 
Comtesse was only a little shopkeeper, they would 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 


267 


not believe me. I7ow, I want yon to belp me, and 
if you do, and do the thing well, I will invite you 
to my gorgeous home in Angleterre next summer or 
perhaps even at Easter. We live close to the great- 
est city in the world, Londres, so big, so mighty, so 
powerful. It is not as graceful as Paris, but it will 
ravish your eyes and I will take you there day by 
day and you will have a glorious time. But what 
I want you to do now is this. The grandpere of the 
little Comtesse, M. le Comte St. Juste, does not know 
at all that his granddaughter helps at a shop. He is a 
very old and feeble man and he ought to be enlight¬ 
ened. How, I put this into your hands, my best 
beloved Louise, to tell him the truth. You must 
call at the Chateau St. Juste and ask to see him. Go, 
I beseech of you, when the weather is cold and the 
bees do not hum so much and do not trouble them¬ 
selves to sting. If you convey the news, thoroughly 
and perfectly, to the ears of the old, old man, I have 
in my possession forty francs, no less, which I will 
send you, and afterwards you shall come to see me 
for long weeks at Clapham Common, which is 
thought the most aristocratic part of all London. 
How listen to me, Louise, and as you listen, Louise 
Grognan, obey! I will promise to you a glorious 
time and although the food is English, not French,, 
it is of the best and the daintiest” 


268 IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 

This letter was addressed to Mile. Louise Grog- 
nan at her father’s large restaurant and Tilda re¬ 
ceived an answer in due course. Louise could be 
sure of nothing, but she would do her best. As it 
happened, she owed forty francs to Madame Mar- 
celle and she knew that her father, whose restaurant 
was so famous, would be furious if he knew that she 
had gone into debt. She did not really care for 
Matilda Kaynes, nor was she very keen to go to 
Clapham Common, nor to see the cold wonders of 
London. She preferred la belle France—^with its 
lovely Arles and its gay Paris. She did not care for 
pictures nor monuments nor ancient cathedrals. She 
liked dress better than anything else in the world. 
If she paid off her forty francs she might run up a 
further little bill at the etahlissement of Madame 
Marcelle. 

Then it occurred to her as she replied to her 
friend, or rather her so-called friend, that she might 
raise the price for this rather nasty little job. Ac¬ 
cordingly, she said that she would do what Matilda 
Paynes desired for sixty francs but not a penny 
under. Tilly, wild with delight, felt certain that she 
could secure this really small sum of money, and 
while Margot rode with all the happiness of her 
joyous little heart on Starlight and The Desmond 
rode by her side on the King of the Desmonds and 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 


269 


Malachi rode a horse which he called The Pet Lamb 
on the other side, these miserable things were being 
arranged for the future unhappiness of the little 
Comtesse. 

The day and the hour arrived. There came an 
afternoon when, true to his word. Uncle Jacko, be¬ 
loved Uncle Jacko, appeared on the scene. Margot 
clasped her arms round his neck, kissed him several 
times and said, Has it indeed come ? ” 

Uncle Jacko replied with that saint-like look on 
his beautiful face, It is the will of the Almighty.’’ 
Fergus suddenly appeared and said to Margot, 
Keep silence for a time, my child; go and nestle 
into the arms of your grandfather.” 

Little Margot went very softly and sadly away. 
Uncle Jacko and Uncle Fergus went out into the 
yard. They found a lonely spot and began to talk 
very earnestly together. 

Yes, I’ve known all about it from the first,” said 
Fergus Desmond. It was not our pushkeen’s fault. 
The Comte St. Juste married beneath him and be¬ 
hold the result, but it must come to an end. When 
you start to-morrow morning for Arles with little 
Margot, I will go with you. Jack Mansfield, for I 
have a word to say to Madame la Comtesse. It is 
she who is doing the mischief. She is using our 


270 IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 

little one, our dear little one, for lier own worldly 
purposes.^’ 

I have known it also all along,” said Uncle 
Jacko, but if we can keep the fact from the two 
old grandfathers, surely no harm can be done.” 

I don^t wish it,” said Fergus. I, too, have 
my pride. Some day, I hope a far distant day, she 
will be the niece of The Desmond. Understand, I 
choose not to have a shopkeeper as a niece.” 

“ Ah, but that matters so very, very little,” said 
Uncle Jacko. 

Fergus gave him a queer smile of non-comprehen¬ 
sion. 

I have made up my mind and I go with you,” 
he said after a long pause, and thus it was arranged. 

Early the next morning the pushkeen appeared in 
her grandfather^s room, where he was seated in his 
high grandfather’s chair by a huge fire of turf. 

See, see, grand-dad! ” said Margot. See, be¬ 
hold, listen! ” She looked wildly excited and wildly 
pleased. She was keeping back the sorrow that was 
breaking her very heart. 

See, my own, own, own grandfather,” she said, 
seizing his fingers. First, finger one; next, finger 
two; third, finger three—I go away for three of these 
fingers. I come back at the end of that time to my 
own darlingest grand-dad. I go at once, at once! 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 


271 


Oil, grand-dad, kiss me, love me, love me! Oh, 
grand-dad, I love you too much to cry. Kiss me, my 
best of all grand-dads, kiss me at once.’’ 

The poor astonished Desmond took the child of 
his heart into his strong arms. He pressed her close 
to his heart, he solemnly counted out the months. 

You will come back,” he said. 

I will come back, my own, own grand-dad.” 

“ Three months,” he said. You came to me on 
the 6th of September, you will return on the 6th 
of March. Ah, but surely it is less than nothing. 
I do not grieve. The Desmond never grieves. It 
would be contrary to his high dignity.” 

Then he kissed Margot, although his lips trembled 
and she ran out into the great hall, so bare, so empty, 
so desolate, where all the family, including Malachi 
and Madam, were assembled. 

Don’t make a fuss,” said the pushkeen. If 
you do, perhaps a tear might force itself out and 
I’m like The Desmond, I dont cry. How then, 
Malachi, go straight in and talk to grand-dad. Make 
him laugh about the horses and keep Starlight quite 
safe for me and—and darling grandmother. Madam, 
do your lovely crochet in the comer where you 
always sit and talk about pushkeen and say that I’m 
so happy and say that I’m coming back again in a 


272 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 


twink. 'Now don’t kiss me and sob over me, anyone, 
for I belong to The Desmond and he never cries.” 

All the party assembled in the hall were a little 
astonished at the pushkeen’s manner, but they let 
her go without a word, and Malachi went into the 
special room provided for The Desmond. 

The old man was cowering over the great turf fire 
and shivering not a little. His face was very white. 
He seemed to show his years. Madam did not dare 
to speak to him, but crept to her accustomed corner. 
Malachi came close and spoke in a determined voice. 

Sir, I’ve been thinking it out.” 

I’m in no mood for your thinking,” said Tlie 
Desmond. 

But, listen, father, it is very important,” said 
Malachi. It’s about her little self, the pushkeen 
that’s gone.” 

Don’t talk of her or I’ll let out on ye,” said The 
Desmond. I keep my shillelagh within reach. I’m 
old, but I can let the shillelagh fly.” 

Ye wouldn’t let it fly on your son,” replied the 
young man. I’m thinking that you and me will 
be very busy the next three months getting ready 
for her little self.” 

Getting ready, how and what do ye mean ? ” 

“I thought we might begin to rear a stud of 
horses for her and sell ’em and put away the money 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 


273 


so as to have a bit of a pile ready for her worthy 
of her name, and of your name, and when the pile 
is big enough, she can take your name Desmond, not 
the whole of it of course because that goes to Fergus, 
but she can be the little pushkeen Desmond. Only 
we must set to work at once, you and me, father, a 
secret all to ourselves.” 

The old man raised his very bright blue eyes. 

Malachi,” he said. I never heard ye speak a 
word of sense before, but there’s sense in what ye are 
talking about now. We must prepare for the little 
one’s future, and ye are wonderful with the young 
beasts, Malachi. We’ll go out to the stables at once 
and talk it over.” 

Yes, father, to be sure,” said Malachi. 

Meanwhile the other old grandfather, mon grand- 
pere, was waiting in raptures for the return of la 
petite Comtesse. He spoke about her every moment 
to la Comtesse, la belle grand’mere. He was feeling 
very feeble and weak but the thought of his Henri’s 
child returning to him brought him peace and 
strength. Meanwhile, during the journey, Fergus 
acquainted Uncle Jacko with what he meant to do. 
The shop must be put a stop to. They could provide 
for the little one themselves. She must not earn 
money in the shop. Little Margot pretended not to 
listen, but in reality she listened very hard. 


274 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 


As they approached the town of Arles, they found 
that they were in an empty compartment. All tho 
other passengers had got out at different stations. 
Then little Margot turned and spoke. She went 
straight up to Uncle Eergus and put her hand on his 
knee. 

That time when you thought I was asleep, I was 
not asleep. I had my eyes shut, but my ears were 
open and I heard.” 

Well, what did you hear, pushkeen? ” said Fer¬ 
gus, speaking as calmly as he could. 

I heard you say to Uncle Jacko that I was not 
to help ma telle grand’mere any more in the etdb- 
lissement. But how do you think she will get on 
without me ? Has she not to take care of mon ton 
grandpere and is she not providing a dot for me? 
And mon grandpere does not know anything, and 
he will not know. Listen! I mean to help ma telle 
grand’mere. She shall not work for nothing at all 
—no, she shall not. Uncle Fergus, The Desmond 
must never, never know and mon ton grandpere of 
Arles must never know. But why should I not help 
a little?” 

You are a foolish colleen,” replied Fergus, pat¬ 
ting the little hand which rested on his knee. 

That was all Margot could get him to say and she 
went back to her seat at the other side of the carriage 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 2Y5 

feeling terribly disconsolate. Why should she not 
help people ? She liked helping people. It was 
wrong to oppose her when she was doing right. She 
felt certain, sure, that it was wrong. Then she gave 
a quick side glance at Fergus’s face and noticed the 
expression on it—the determination, the quiet res¬ 
olution to have his own way in spite of la 'petite 
Comtesse, or the little pushkeen as she was called in 
Ireland. 

At last they arrived. The motor-car met them. 
They drove to the Chateau St. Juste. Ah, but was 
not M. le Comte glad to see his little Margot! His 
black eyes shone, his cheeks grew pink with emotion. 
Time seemed not to have stirred since he saw her 
last. He was lying in his beautiful cool salo'a with 
his pillows of down and his thick soft, crimson rug 
of plush. 

The good clergyman sat down and began to talk 
to him. He took Margot on his knee and pressed her 
close to him. During these precious few minutes he 
felt that he could indulge in the love and the joy 
of his heart. But Fergus was determined to have 
his way. 

Fergus asked Madame to walk with him in the 
garden, which was sunny and bright, but which only 
held some apples, some pears, and such like fruits 
on the old trees. The peaches had vanished, the 


276 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 


bees had gone into their winter quarters. It was 
never cold at Arles, but the people there thought it' 
cold. Anyhow the bees felt that they might rest from 
their labours. 

Madame la Comtesse thought Fergus Desmond 
very handsome. She adored mon Alphonse, but she 
enjoyed talking to any handsome man. 

“ Thou hast brought la 'petite back with you. Mon¬ 
sieur,” she said. 

I have,” he replied. It is her French grand¬ 
father's turn to have her for three months. These 
partings are sore blows. Madame, I would speak 
with you.” 

Ah, but I did think so,” replied Madame. Is 
not life assuredly of the most miserable unless we 
speak out our innermost thoughts? Thou hast a 
weight on thy mind. Monsieur le Desmond.” 

I have; it is a bad subject, it must be got 
through. I have learnt from the lips of John Mans¬ 
field, Madame, and also from the lips of a very 
nasty girl who goes to the school of a certain princess, 
that our little Margot assists you in a shop. It is kept 
by a certain Madame Marcelle. But it is in reality 
your shop. Her grandfather does not know, neither 
her French grandfather nor her Irish grandfather. 
Such news would kill either of them. Madame, it 
must cease. The child goes to her grandfather, she 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 


277 


does not go to you. You must assure me now and 
here on your word as an honourable woman that you 
will never allow the little Margot to enter the shop of 
Madame Marcelle, which is in reality your shop, any 
more.” 

But listen! Understand, monsieur. May not 
la petite enter the apartment where the chapeaux 
are sold, may not la pauvre cJierie buy a chapeau for 
herself ? Ah, but non, non, you can not say against 
it, monsieur. La chere petite must be dressed ac¬ 
cording to the wishes of her grandfather and me, and, 
behold! I am making her dot and it will be solid— 
oh a pile, a pile; francs by the thousand, by the tens 
of thousands, by the hundreds of thousands! Your 
little niece will be tres riche, monsieur, but she must 
be dressed, ah, oui, in the proper way, monsieur. 
She wears not now the correct garments for la petite 
Comtesse St. Juste, but I was ready for that, and 
I have a fresh set of little garments all waiting for 
her in her chambre de nuit. You will agree with me, 
monsieur, n'est-ce pas f 

I do not mind what clothes you buy for the 
child,” said Fergus, if you promise that she does 
not sell things herself in the shop.” 

Ah, hut you are cruel, and she likes it. One 
little hour per day, monsieur. She has the manners, 
ah, of the grande noblesse, and behold, the people 


278 IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 

flock to her and she is making her own little dot, by 
her own clever speeches, and her own wonderful 
taste. Permit it, monsieur, I entreat! ” 

I refuse to permit it,” said Fergus. “ It must 
not he. I would rather she had no dot and was a 
lady.” 

Tears filled the eyes of little Madame. 

Ah, hut indeed, she is a lady the most perfect,” 
was her remark. Think, monsieur, consider what 
I have suffered. I married mon Alphonse because 
oT the love, oh^ so mighty, and because I did so pity 
him. He was so beautiful, so desolate, so poor. He 
was nearly on the brink of starving, monsieur. Then 
I come along and I make the wicked lie. He thinks 
that I have given up the etahlissement, I make out 
to him that it is so, but I could not give it up, 
monsieur, and give him the comforts that he needs, 
the frail, frail old man. Then there came as a ray 
of sunshine to his heart la 'petite Comtesse, the only 
child of his only son, and behold he revived! And 
I took la petite Comtesse into my Hahlisseifnent and 
behold! She had the taste superb. The chapeaux 
they went like the wind, the fans like the whirl¬ 
winds, the robes they vanished as you looked, and 
all because of la petite Margot and her immaculate 
taste. She is well taught, monsieur, also. She has 
masters for French and dancing and the piano and 


IF IT MUST BE IT MUST. 


279 


singing. Only a little of the singing, she is too young 
at present. She spends but two hours a day in the 
eiahlissement, and behold it flourishes as it never did 
before, and neither of the grandperes know. Where 
is the harm, Monsieur Desmond? Why conceal a 
talent so great? Madame Marcelle cannot attempt 
to dispose of my goods as la petite Comtesse does. 
You see the thing is honourable, nest-ce pas. Mon¬ 
sieur Desmond ? ’’ 

I do not. I forbid it,” said Fergus. “ We care 
not for fine clothes in Ireland and a little money goes 
a long way. What we want is to keep up our great, 
great nobility. You understand, Madame, have I 
your word that it shall cease ? ” 

Ah, oui, oui, if it must be, it must,” said 
Madame. She spoke in a gay, light sort of 
voice and picked a luscious pear, which she presented 
to Monsieur Desmond as a token of her unfailing 


esteem. 


CHAPTEK XYIIL 


THE GREEN HAT. 

There was a strange sort of feeling in the breast 
of little Margot as she bade Uncle Fergus good-bye. 
When be took her in his arms be said, 

It’s all settled, pusbkeen, and you are to do as 
I wish.” 

Then Uncle Jacko, with bis gentle, angel sort of 
face, kissed the child very tenderly and said. 

You’ll do your duty at any cost, my little col¬ 
leen.” 

After that the two men went away and Margot was 
left with grandpere and la belle grand’mere. She 
felt a little bewildered. She could not help repeating 
over and over to herself, I am sorry to come back. 
I would rather be with The Desmond than anyone 
else in the wide, wide world,” but she was learning 
self-control and was growing a tiny bit older than 
her years. She bad, however, in her grave, stead¬ 
fast sort of fashion quite made up her mind. 

Grandpere should know nothing about la belle 
grand’mere being helped. She, Margot, would help 
280 


THE GREEN HAT. 


281 


her. She kept these thoughts, however, quite to her¬ 
self and la helle grand’mere talked rapidly of the 
handsome appearance of the Irish Desmond and 
how most truly he fascinated the heart. 

Little Margot took no notice of this. She was 
absorbed in comforting grandpere. He certainly 
looked very old indeed in comparison with The Des¬ 
mond. His black eyes had sunk further into his 
head, but he was rejoiced beyond words to have the 
ehild of his only son with him, and he kept patting 
her hand and saying, 

Tres hien, la 'petite, thou blessed one, thou angel, 
thou little cabbage.” 

Margot did not feel in the least like an angel, but 
nevertheless she was determined to do her very 
utmost for grandpere and on his account for la helle 
grand’mere. 

Madame la Comtesse, true to her word, had pro¬ 
vided the most ravishing little costumes for la petite 
to wear, and la petite felt that the time had come 
when she might without any difficulty put on the 
pretty garments, which would be disliked and dis¬ 
approved of at dear old Desmondstown. Her soft 
black hair, rippling, curling, flowing, fell far below 
ber waist. Her small feet were encased in shoes 
of the most perfect and softest kid. This kid was of 
a delicate shade of blue. Her open-work stockings 


282 THE GEEEH HAT. 

were to matcli her shoes. Then there was a little 
pale blue embroidered short frock, very simple, but 
oh, according to Madame and grandpere, superh. 

As a matter of fact, la belle grand’mere had not 
trusted Madame Marcelle, but had sent to Paris for 
the little costume. The child danced about the room 
in delight, the old man’s eyes glistened, Madame 
felt tears somewhere near her own eyes, but Margot 
of the Desmonds did not attempt to cry. It was not 
according to her ideas, comme it faut —oh, by no 
means at all, comme il faut. 

At last grandpere got tired and went to bed, then 
Margot went up to la belle grand’mere, 

I’m going to do it,” she said. “ I’m going to 
help you.” 

“Thou blessed enfant!"' exclaimed Madame. 
“ Ah, mon Dieu, but thou art of the very best; dis¬ 
tinguished is no word. Eepose thyself, mon enfant. 
Thy dainty room is ready for thee, petite. To¬ 
morrow we will talk.” 

“ ISTo,” said Margot, “ we will talk to-night. How, 
this instant! We will settle, we will arrange, we 
will not put off. For me, I am under no promise. 
Thou dost want me in the etablissement, I will go 
there for two hours each day. Thou and I between 
us will look after the old, very old grandpere. Thou 
art trop fatiguee to do it all by thyself.” 


THE GEEEH HAT. 


283 


“ Ah, but thou art a true poem, a romance! ” ex¬ 
claimed the delighted Madame. And wilt thou 
really serve in the etablissement, petite f 

I will on one condition,” replied Margot. 
iN’either of my grandfathers must ever know. I 
told Uncle Fergus what I thought right and fair. He 
did not agree and I am sorry, for I love him. But 
now for three months I will help thee, ma belle 
grand’mere.” ^ 

Ah, but thou art of the blessed,” said the 
Comtesse. Do not the angels sing of thee ? Have 
they not this very night sung a new song to their 
harps on account of thee, ma petite?'* 

I care not in the least what the angels do,” said 
Margot, but I want to help thee and grandpere. 
I will do it, too. To-morrow I will begin. Two 
hours daily, except Sunday, when I kneel in my 
room and pray to the good God; the . rest of the 
time I learn of the French—^yes—of the music— 
yes—of the dancing—yes! How I will repose as 
thou dost suggest, ma belle grand^mere, for I am 
weary, not having slept, I may say, anything at all 
last night.” 

Ah, thou blessed one, I will take thee to thy 
room,” said Madame. 

Margot undressed quickly and got into bed, a 
smile on her face. She had a strange feeling that 


284 


THE GEEEH HAT. 


she was doing right, that this was an occasion when 
it was her hounden duty to resist dear Uncle Fergus 
and help la Comtesse. She little guessed, however, 
that there was a certain girl, well known in the 
school of la Princesse de Fleury, namely, Louise 
(jrrognan, the daughter of Grognan the owner of the 
big restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiens—she 
little knew that this young person was watching her 
and intended for her own purposes to spoil what 
she called the fun of the little shopkeeper. 

Accordingly the next day, when Margot was busy 
over her duties as saleswoman, Louise Grognan en¬ 
tered the shop. She came straight up to Margot and 
asked her in a harsh, unpleasant sort of voice for a 
chapeau, and she was to be vite. 

Margot smiled in her gentle, pleasant way, said 
she was busy for the time being, but if Mademoiselle 
Grognan would wait for a few minutes she would 
take her to the apartement where the chapeaux were 
sold. 

Louise frowned a little, felt decidedly cross, but 
after a time decided to wait. She was catching the 
little shopkeeper in the act. Uothing could be more, 
agreeable. 

Perhaps never before had little Margot St. Juste 
looked more beautiful than she did on this occasion. 
There was the spirit of self-denial in her charming 


THE GREEN HAT. 


285 


little face. She was doing what she was doing for 
others and not for herself. Her appearance, too^. 
was remarkably striking. Madame had dressed the 
little girl on this occasion in a soft crimson robe, 
much embroidered, with stockings and dainty shoes 
to match. 

The beautiful child attracted the attention of 
everyone. 

Behold la Comtesse! Behold la Comtesse!^’ 
echoed from end to end of the great etahlissemenL 

How, thou, cherie^ shalt be dressed according to 
thy needs,’^ said a happy mother to a blushing 
daughter. 

And thou, Carlice, shalt wear what suits thee 
at long last,” said an ungainly aunt to an equally 
ungainly niece. Ah, but she has the taste, the 
little Comtesse! ” 

On all sides there were sounds of rejoicing and 
pleasure at seeing the pretty child back again. Mar¬ 
got heard the words, but she had all the dignity of 
her race. She told Madame Coquenne and Madame 
Lise that she would be with them soon, as soon as 
possible, and then she went off to attend to Louise 
Grognan. 

I want a chapeau,” said Louise. You put on 
wonderful airs, Margot, seeing you are only a shop¬ 
keeper.” 


:286 


THE GEEEN HAT. 


Margot looked at Louise out of ter beautiful, 
deep, loving eyes. 

Do you want to say unkind things to me, 
Louise ? she remarked. Ma belle grand’mere 
wishes me to help her a little and I am willing to 
do it, for she is overworked, but mon bon grandpere 
he knows nothing, he thinks me a fine lady, la Com- 
tesse St. Juste. I consider that a fine lady is the 
•one who does best her duty.’’ 

Are you coming back to our school ? ” inter¬ 
rupted Louise. 

!N"o, I’m too busy for the school.” 

Ah, I thought as much. Besides, we do not take 
shopkeepers at our school.” 

But thy bon pere is a restaurant keeper. I see 
not the difference.” 

Louise gave an angry clench of her little fists. 

“Dost thou not know, petite fille, that I myself 
keep no restaurant personally? Mon pere, he works 
for me; the difference is wide, immense.” 

Mon pere est mort/" answered Margot in a sad 
voice. “ Thou didst ask for a chapeau. Wilt thou 
select ? ” 

Louise chose a very tall, beehive-shaped head-dress 
of vivid green, trimmed with quantities of grass of 
the same shade. 


THE GEEEN HAT. 28T 

It will not suit thee, Louise,’’ said Margot, in. 
her gentle, fascinating voice. 

^^Well, what wouldst thou suggest?” asked 
Louise, who was too well aware of the excellence of 
Margot’s taste to dare to despise it. 

I would dress thee so,” said Margot, and she 
produced a soft, black hat, very soft, very light, 
which could be turned up at the side and into which 
Margot arranged a little piece of ribbon, bright, soft, 
crimson, which made an arresting note in the black¬ 
ness of the hat. 

Behold, here is thy chapeau! ” said Margot. 

Louise pouted a little, looked longingly at the 
grass-green hat, but finally succumbed to the black 
hat with the crimson ribbon. 

Margot brought her before a large mirror and 
made her see herself in both hats. 

Ah, bah, thou must not be seen in that! ” she 
said, flinging the grass-green chapeau aside. I^ow 
behold the other hat! The complexion it softens, the 
eyes they glow, the crimson note of colour softens 
the colour in thy lips and cheeks. It is ires heau 
that chapeau; it suits thee, Louise. It is my wish 
that thou shouldst wear it.” 

Ah, c est hien/" exclaimed Louise. But the 
price, the price must be low.” 

One hundred and fifty francs,” said Margot, in 


288 


THE GREEN HAT. 


a calm, steady voice, not a penny less, not a penny 
more. Behold the quality of the black, look for 
thyself at the shape, see how the ribbon entwines 
itself, just enough and no more, as I have placed it. 
One hundred and fifty francs—I have spoken.’^ 

I cannot pay you now,’’ said Louise. You will 
let it lie against my little account.” 

''Non, non, that I never do,” said Margot. 

Those who buy from la 'petite Comtesse pay as 
they buy. Thou mayst, if thou dost please, Louise, 
buy a chapeau of Madame Marcelle; but for me, 
I take my black hat to another customer. She is 
looking at it with eyes that devour.” 

Certainly Louise Grognan felt inclined to stamp 
her feet, to rage, to utter a wicked little swear; but 
Margot did not take the least notice. She sold the 
beautiful black hat to a striking-looking American 
girl, and the grass-green hat was purchased by Louise 
and put down to the account of the said young lady 
by Madame Marcelle. 

l^ow, indeed, her anger was at its height. She 
hated little Margot because she could not in the least 
compete with her. The grave dignity of the child 
was beyond her power to emulate. She of the people 
could not imitate that other one of the aristocrats. 
She might call her the little shopkeeper as much as 
:she liked, but she really was la petite Comtesse and 


THE GREEN HAT. 28^ 

not only the assistants in the etablissement adored 
her, but all the customers insisted on having la petite 
Comtesse to serve them. 

Louise was now ripe for revenge. She hated the 
handsome child, who was so grave, so firm and dig¬ 
nified and full of that resolve which can only be 
called by its true name, the tone of the aristocrats. 

Well, well, at least Louise should have her revenge. 
She wrote a long letter to Tilly Kaynes, telling her 
that she had caught Marguerite in the act, and she 
was only waiting for her opportunity to communi¬ 
cate with M. le Comte St. Juste. She thought also 
that it might help her a little if Tilly would give 
her the address of the Irish grandpere, who was 
also so eaten up with pride. 

Tilly wrote immediately, giving the full address 
of The Desmond of Desmondstown. 

I know no such name as The,” thought Louise. 
“ I will call him Monsieur Desmond. He shall get 
the letter as soon as possible. I will write the letter 
to-day; the day after to-morrow I will visit le 
Comte.” 

Accordingly she wrote in her broken English to 
Monsieur Desmond at Desmondstown in the County 
of Kerry, Ireland, but the letter fell into the hands 
of Fergus. He read it as best he could, smiled a 


290 


THE GEEEH HAT. 


little at the invincible spirit of the pushkeen and 
then tore the letter into little fragments. 

Meanwhile Louise took the opportunity to ask la 
Princesse de Fleury to allow her to go to see her 
father at the Boulevard des Italiens. La Princesse 
was always ready to oblige. She said the girl might 
have a half-holiday, but must be back by six o’clock. 

Louise put on her hideous grass-green hat and set 
out in high spirits. The walk from the town of 
Arles to the Chateau St. Juste was a good mile in 
length. Louise said to herself how thoroughly she 
would enjoy bowing that pride of the dreadful old 
man to the dust. Even in the beautiful town of 
Arles it was not very warm now. Winter was set¬ 
ting in with rigor, so the people of the south of 
Prance thought, although the hedges were covered 
with roses and climbing geraniums, and everywhere 
the air was perfect with the delicious smell of 
violets. 

Louise had made careful enquiries and knew that 
she would arrive at the chateau when Margot and 
la belle grand’mere were out. She was not accus¬ 
tomed to much walking, however, and her steps went 
slowly. What was to become of the little shop¬ 
keeper when she had fully explained her story? 
She thought that at the very least la petite Com- 
tesse would be dismissed, disgraced, sent back to 


THE GREEN HAT. 


291 


those Irish people, who were so wild and ugly and 
indifferent and even they would not receive her, for 
she had been told that their pride was of the great¬ 
est, and Monsieur Desmond must have got her letter 
or certainly would get it before Margot arrived. 

Ah, well, truly had she earned her sixty francs 
and the gi'ass-green hat was very pretty according 
to her own ideas. She arrived at the gates of the old 
chateau. They were opened to her by a tiny French¬ 
woman, whom Madame la Comtesse had placed at 
the lodge. 

She walked up the perfectly kept avenue and smelt 
more strongly than ever the perfume of the violets, 
the scent of the roses, and the scent also of the sweet 
pink geraniums which fell in clusters round the 
trees, helping to adorn the few that were leafless, but 
most of the trees were olives and they were now in 
their bloom. Certainly the home of Monsieur le 
Comte was very perfect. 

She reached the front door and pressed the electric 
bell. A man in the livery of the St. Justes replied 
at once to her summons. 

Louise made her request. 

Ah, norij non, ce nest pas possible, Madame 
she is out and la petite Comtesse is also out,” re¬ 
plied the footman. 

I want to see Monsieur le Comte,” said Louise. 


292 


THE GKEEN HAT. 


I have a message to give him of great importance 
with regard to his granddaughter.” 

The man looked hard, very hard indeed at Louise. 
He longed to ask, Is it a message of the serious ? ” 
hut he restrained himself. 

I will enquire,” he said. Restez tranquille. 
Mademoiselle, I have before now eaten of your 
father’s sweetmeats the most superb! Ah, but they 
melt in the mouth! Behold, a chair. Mademoiselle 1 
I will take your message to the Comte, if it is really 
not one to do him any injury.” 

Ho, no, he ought to know,” said Louise. It 
will save him trouble in the future. Go and, behold, 
if you succeed I will get my father to send you a 
box of his best chocolates! ” 

The man gazed again at the queer-looking girl and 
finally retired into the salon where M. le Comte was 
calmly resting. 

M. le Comte was very happy—his beloved Ma^ 
dame was nearly always by his side, and now he 
had almost three months of la petite before him. 
The adored la petite! Could any aged man be hap¬ 
pier than he ? He did not mind his feeling of weak¬ 
ness, the rapid approach of extreme old age did not 
trouble him. He was happy in the gentle, soothing 
present. What else mattered, what else could 
matter ? 


THE GREEH HAT. 293 

He was interrupted wlien Gustave came in with 
his message. 

I want you not, go! he said. See you not 
that I arrange myseK for repose ? Go, and leave me 
in peace! I see no one when my wife and grand¬ 
daughter are away.’’ 

Yes, but you will see me,” said Louise, suddenly 
bursting into the room, her grass-green hat all awry, 
her features flushed, her small eyes full of a de¬ 
lighted vengeance. 

I have come about your 'petite Comtesse,” said 
Louise. See, behold, you will listen! ” 

Leave us, Gustave,” said le Comte, and Gustave 
closed the door and applied his ear with great skill 
to the key-hole. 

What have you come about ? ” said the Comte in 
a voice of high displeasure. This is my hour for 
repose. I see no strangers, more particularly those 
like yourself.” 

The eyes of Louise flashed with anger. 

If I suit not your taste, old man,” she said, 

you have but your granddaughter to blame. She 
sold me my chapeau in the etablisse'me'nt of your 
good wife. She goes there each day. Ask her, she 
cannot deny 1 ” 

The Comte felt very queer and sick, a kind of 
giddiness came over him, that terrible faintness from 


294 


THE GEEEH HAT. 


which at times he suffered was approaching, the 
world looked very dark. 

Suddenly he pulled himself together. He found 
his eyes fixed on the hideous grass-green hat, never 
surely could his little Margot sell anything so fright¬ 
ful to so low-down a customer. 

Leave me, I feel faint,” he said. Send to 
me my man Gustave, and go! I command you to 
go at once 1 ” 

Louise looked wildly round her, but the grass- 
green hat kept on doing its work, it was quite im¬ 
possible for M. le Comte to believe her story; it was 
out of his power even for an instant to suppose that 
the little hands he loved could have touched anything 
so impossible. 

You tell lies, my good girl,” he said. It may 
be possible that you will drop down dead like Sap- 
phira, who followed the example of Ananias, her 
husband. Go quickly, before my anger begins to 
boil. Hasten before I attack you with a pistol! 
There are times when I lose self-control, and that 
chapeau —mon Dieu! That chapeau! Go at once, 
I beseech of you, before I do an injury, which may 
mean la mort!'' 

Louise was by now thoroughly frightened. The 
grand, disdainful manner of la petite Comtesse was 


THE GREEN HAT. 295 

nothing to the terrifying manner of le Comte him¬ 
self. 

She did not even wait to speak to Gustave; a 
shower began to fall from the heavens, and her grass- 
green hat marked her face with grass-green tints 
the reverse of becoming as she hurried down the 
avenue. The woman at the lodge laughed as she saw 
her, but she was good-natured and did not want to 
see anyone in trouble. 

‘^Madame la Comtesse and la petite Comtesse 
Margot are out,’^ she said. I knew well you would 
have your walk for nothing; but behold! you shall 
enter my humble dwelling. Le chapeau, why it is 
a figure of fun. Where did you buy it, Mam’selle ? ’’ 

Louise was too cross to reply, but she was not too 
cross to accept the shelter of the little lodge which 
was offered to her. She was not there two or three 
minutes before who should walk in but Madame. 

Madame la Comtesse looked very charming. She 
stared fixedly at Louise and Louise sprang to her 
feet. 

I must speak to you,” she said. I must talk 
words all alone.” 

I mind not,” said la Comtesse. You will leave 
us, Susette! ” 

Then listen—^you are a lying woman,” said 
Louise, and your granddaughter, she serves in the 


296 THE GEEEH HAT. 

etahlissement of Madame Marcelle. Behold for 
yourself, she sold me this chapeau! ’’ 

ISTever, never! ’’ cried Madame. But we will 
prove it. Come with me now in my motor-car to 
the etahlissement of Madame Marcelle. She tells 
the truth in very deed.’’ 

Louise did not seem to mind, a pleased smile 
wreathed her face. 

You are the daughter of Grognan, the restau¬ 
rant-keeper,” remarked Madame. 

I am, I make no hones about it. I am proud of 
it, and of mon 'peref^ 

In that you are right,” exclaimed Madame. 

Ah, how quickly we move, and the rain falls in 
torrents. Ma petite Comtesse, ma chere petite Com- 
tesse is now enjoying her lessons of the French. I 
do not recognize that chapeau as one belonging to 
the etahlissement of Madame Marcelle.” 

It was your granddaughter sold it to me,” said 
Louise. 

That is impossible,” said Madame, calmly, but 
we will soon find out. What were you doing in the 
lodge belonging to the chateau ? ” 

The woman gave me shelter,” said Louise. I 
had gone to acquaint M. le Comte with the fact that 
you kept a shop and la petite Comtesse was the 
little shopkeeper.” 


THE GREEN HAT. 


297 


“ And you saw mon Alphonse ? ” 

Ah, oui, oui/' cried Louise, beginning to enjoy 
herself. 

Madame pulled the check-string and desired the 
ehautfeur to fly—to put on all the speed possible. 
Soon they reached the etablissement. 

Who sold this chapeau to Mademoiselle Grog- 
nan ? ’’ enquired la Comtesse. 

I did,’' said Madame Marcelle. She has not 
paid for it yet.” 

I admit no debts in the etablissement/* ex- 
elaimed Madame la Comtesse. Madame Marcelle, 
why did you allow such an ugly thing into le 
magasin? ** 

It came by mistake,” replied the poor, confused 
Madame. The mademoiselle liked it and I sold 
it to her. I only charged her forty francs, for I 
thought it so ugly.” 

It is a screaming farce,” said Madame la Com¬ 
tesse. Go back, Mademoiselle. I will write this 
evening to votre pere, the restaurant-keeper, for the 
money.” 

Oh, but it pours, it drenches,” cried Louise. 

I care not, nay more, I am glad,” said Madame. 

You went with intention to act cruelly to me 
and mine. Madame Marcelle, come back with me at 


298 


THE GEEEIT HAT. 


once to the chateau—at once, at once! Let the as¬ 
sistants serve here for the rest of the day.” 

Thus and in this fashion was Mademoiselle served 
for her evil conduct. Thus was she severely repri¬ 
manded by Grognan the restaurant-keeper, and thus 
did Madame Marcelle explain to the much troubled 
Comte who had really sold the chapeau to Mam’selle. 

It was the chapeau that saved me,” said the 
old Comte. I was sinking into one of my worst 
faints, which are to the life of the aged so danger¬ 
ous, when I looked at the chapeau and knew it could 
not be. Ma petite cherie could not act as that 
wicked daughter of the people would try to make 
me believe.” 

Ah, non, M. le Comte,” exclaimed Madame 
Marcelle, the dignity of la petite is of the mar¬ 
vellous. When she enters my etahlissement, simply 
to huy, thou dost understand, every one turns to 
look at the beautiful enfant. She chooses for herself 
and her taste is superb.” 

Then that girl told a cruel lie,” said the Comte. 

^^Ah, certainement, monsieur.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


liE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 

But little Margot was not to get off quite so 
easily. She was to have her trials the same as other 
people. There was not the slightest doubt whatso¬ 
ever that Margot had a nature far above the ordi¬ 
nary. It was strong, it was brave, it had a sort of 
noble simplicity about it. She was proud of her 
race, both on her father’s and her mother’s side, but 
she could not see the slightest harm in assisting la 
belle grand’mere with the etablissemenL She did 
see, however, a good deal of harm in annoying, nay 
more, in seriously injuring, the lives of two dear old 
men, both of them in their own way the dearest old 
men in the world. Of course The Desmond was the 
best of all—he was grand, noble, superb; but there 
was also something tres magnifique, according to la 
belle grand’mere, in Monsieur le Comte St. Juste. 
He was so feeble, too, and so old; he must not be 
hurt for anything in the world. 

Margot thought nothing whatsoever about her sup¬ 
posed dot, but she sympathised with la belle grand’- 
299 


300 LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 

mere in keeping all knowledge of le magasin from 
M. le Comte. The little Madame idolised the sweet 
girl, and poured her troubles into those sympathetic 
ears. 

“ Behold, behold! ” she cried. There would 
not be Vargent for mon Alphonse if thou didst not 
do thy noble best; if I did not keep the etahlisse- 
merit going. He wants his comforts, that aged and 
beloved one.” 

Ah, oui, je comprens,"^ said little Margot. 

And she did comprehend, and kept her word. 

After a few weeks had gone by, Madame la Com- 
tesse gave orders to her servants not to admit any¬ 
one, old or young, man or woman, into the presence 
of M. le Comte. The servants assured her that 
they would obey her to the very letter. They loved 
her because she was so bright and gay and obliging. 
They did not in the least mind whether she kept a 
magasin or not. Did she not load them with gifts? 
"Was there ever quite so good a place to serve in as 
the Chateau St. Juste? 

Yes, they loved Madame, and they adored la 
petite Comtesse. 

But it so happened that the old M. le Comte, 
lying against his pillows of down, thought a great 
deal about his granddaughter. Henri was indeed a 
boy to be proud of, but after all he was nothing to 


LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 301 

la petite. He wasted Vargent; la petite seemed 
never to spend anything. Was justice being done to 
this charming little creatnre by the father of Henri ? 
He troubled himself about this. He became anxious. 

One day he spoke to Madame la Comtesse. 

Madame/’ he said. thou hast given up thy 
etahlissementf 

Ah, oui, certainement, Alphonse,” was the quick 
answer of Madame. 

Tell me now from the bottom of thy heart, 
Madame, what provision we can make for la petite 
Comtesse.” 

Madame named a sum which certainly staggered 
the old man. 

Thou must he tres riche/' he said. 

Ah, oui, it is the will of God! ” replied Ma¬ 
dame. Then she added, stroking his silvery hair and 
laying her piquant face close to his. Dost thou 
not remember, thou superb, angelic one, that on the 
day we received la Comtesse, a notary came and 
settled on her the sum I have mentioned ? ” 

Ah, oui/' answered M. le Comte. I remem¬ 
ber and yet I forget. The aged, they always forget. 
It is the trial of old age not to remember.” 

It is un fait accompli/' said Madame. “ Fret 
not thyself, chere Alphonse.” 

The old Comte smiled. 


302 


LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 


I like to think of our little one,” he said, al¬ 
ways and ever surrounded by the luxuries of life. 
When she is older, much older, we will marry her 
to a man, young and beautiful and of great rank. 
She is worthy of the best and she shall have the 
best.” 

Mais oui, mais oui/' answered Madame. 

But I have been thinking,” pursued M. le 
Comte, that her education is not progressing. We 
could not permit her to return to the school, where 
that ugly M’selle was taught to tell the black lies.” 

Non/' said Madame. Certainement, non/' 

But I want her to go to a school,” said M. le 
Comte. Why dost thou frown, my adored 
l^inon? ” 

Because I am thinking,” she replied. There 
is but one school in Arles worthy of la petite, and 
that is held by la Princesse de Pleury; but alas, 
even that school is not what it used to be. There 
used to be there only les demoiselles the most re¬ 
fined, the highest in rank.” 

blot the grass-green, ha! ha! ” laughed the 
Comte. 

Thou art right, my adored one, not the grass- 
green. I, too, have thought of the education of la 
petite. It is of the utmost importance. Why not 
place her in the hands of a gouvernantef There 


LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 


303 


is one, Moselle de Close. Slie is connected with 
Moselle de Blanc. She is of high rank and of great 
intelligence, and between M’selle de Close and 
Moselle de Blanc, we can have la petite tanght in 
this, thine own chateau, all the things that belong 
to the best society.’^ 

Of what age are those M’selles ? ’’ asked the 
Comte. 

M’selle de Close is eighteen; M’selle le Blanc 
one year more. They are young, but they are fin¬ 
ished—ah, to the most complete! ” 

And what knowledge can they impart ? ’’ asked 
M. le Comte. 

They’ll teach her all those things that a young 
M’selle should know. They will keep her mind, 
mark you, M. le Comte, as white as a white mar¬ 
guerite, and they will impart to her those graces of 
society which are essential to le hon mari by-and-bye. 
They can come here day about, at two of the clock, 
and spend until four with la petite/^ 

Send them to me one at a time,” said the Comte, 
and let me interview them alone.” 

Accordingly Madame la Comtesse went that very 
day to a unique and charming little flat in a unique 
and charming part of Arles. It was called Le 
Cabinet de Beaute/" The lady who entered the 
room on the arrival of Madame called herself 


304 LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 

Felicite. She held up her hands, arched her brows 
and said: 

Ah, Madame, have you come to me indeed ? 
Have you come at last, that I may perform on you 
my art? Behold how little it is, and how much. 
It finishes never, see, Madame? Behold, I will 
mark out to you your day! You must have the 
chocolat, you must rise never later than eight o’clock, 
and promenade on foot for les douches. This ex¬ 
ercise preserves the form. Then, behold, the mas¬ 
seuse appears and makes miracles of the hands. 
Afterwards you rest as is necessary, and M’selle 
Blanc does the rest. Ah, but she is a veritable 
artist is M’selle Blanc. You want us; you have 
come. I am at your feet, beautiful Madame! ” 

I want you not at all,” said Madame la Com- 
tesse. The good God himself has given unto me 
the cheeks of roses and the eyes so bright and the 
figure so straight. But behold, listen! There is 
ma petite, the idol of her grandfather, the adored 
of her helle grand’mere. M. le Comte knows noth¬ 
ing of my etahlissementj and he must never know, 
never, never I There are things which all women 
of fashion learn, and I want you, M’selle Close, and 
that other gracious lady, M’selle Blanc, to come day 
about to the chateau in order to instruct la 'petite, 
but you must not touch on the make up, compre'nez- 


liE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 305 

vousf It would be fatal. Uenfant toujours; that 
mind so white must he kept white; but you must 
teach her, M’selle Close, such things as the English 
and the French and the German and the geographie 
for two hours every other day, and on the other 
days, M’selle. Blanc shall teach her. You must be 
at the chateau for two hours each day, but before 
anything is firmly established, you must go to the 
chateau and acquaint M. le Comte with the fact that 
you are a poor gouvemante, one of the high nobility. 
You must present yourself to him as M’selle de 
Close, and your friend must be Moselle de Blanc; 
and I will pay you well, ah well; that is, if you 
keep strictly to your post; keep firmly to the lessons 
which I have set you—the white heart to be kept 
white; the holy; things to be instructed to la petite, 
comprenez-vous? 

“ Ah, oui/" said M’selle Close. “ And you will 
pay well, Comtesse ? 

According to your merits will I pay. I care 
not how much, so long as it pleases mon mari. Get 
ready at once and I will drive you, M’selle Close, to 
the Chateau St. Juste.” 

M’selle certainly saw a good thing before her. 
She dressed according to the directions of Madame 
very simply and quietly. She removed the rouge 
from her cheeks and the artificial darkness from 


306 


LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 


beneath her eyes. She was no longer a pretty 
woman, but she was, according to Madame, one with 
Vair distingue. 

Soon they reached the chateau. Little Margot 
had not yet returned home. She was at her dancing 
class and was perfectly happy. 

Madame rushed gaily into the presence of mon 
Alphonse. 

I have found her and she is a treasure. Listen, 
harken, she belongs to the nobility. She is M’selle 
de Close. Her friend also is M’selle de Blanc. She 
is poor, but she is simple, aristocratic, learned. She 
will teach thy granddaughter for two hours every 
second day. On alternate days M’selle de Blanc will 
do likewise. I have brought her back with me for 
thee to see.” 

Ah, but I am tired! ” said the Comte. I did 
not know that thou wouldst be si vite, ma Comtesse.” 

^^Ah, but vite is the word,” cried la Comtesse; 

for youth it flies, months go by, years go by. Be¬ 
hold, whilst thou art looking round, taking a little 
nap—ah, no more, just a little nap, la petite will 
grow up. Wilt thou, then, see M’selle de Close ? ” 

Yes, thou art ever right, Comtesse,” replied 
the old Comte. Present me to M’selle. I will 
treat her with that courtesy which a lady should 
receive.” 


LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 307 

Now M’selle Close, as she was really called knew 
well where her bread was buttered, and she was in 
consequence quite able to answer the enquiries made 
by that gracious and most aristocratic old person, 
M. le Comte. 

I will try you for one month,’’ he said. You 
will he here at two to the minute to-morrow, and 
then, behold! it will be my pleasure to he present 
while you instruct my granddaughter.” 

But here M’selle drew up her head in a very 
haughty way. 

Alas, M. le Comte,” she said. I am poor and 
low in the world, but I have my little pride, my last 
rag of possession. I share that rag with my beloved 
friend, M’selle de Blanc. We could not be treated 
as though we meant to impart evil, we must be 
trusted or we can do nothing. We must decline this 
generous offer of yours, M. le Comte, unless we are 
treated as ladies of rank. La 'petite Comtesse will 
not suffer at our hands, but we must teach her each 
in our turn alone. Is it to be, M. le Comte? For 
there is the house of one who seeks our services, and 
we can go there if you do not permit.” 

For one month I permit,” said the Comte. I 
did not mean to hurt your feelings, M’selle. I was 
only full of interest at the thought of listening to 


308 


LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 


the knowledge which you will pour into the ears of 
la petite Comtesse.” 

Ah, well, M’sieur, I cannot change, I await your 
decision.” 

You shall teach her alone,” said M. le Comte. 

Send your friend to see me to-morrow and come 
yourself as arranged, to begin those instructions 
which demoiselles of rank require.” 

Ah, oui, M’sieur, oui, you indeed belong, as I do 
myself, to the ancienne noblesse/^ 

The arrangement was quickly arrived at. The 
two ladies were interviewed by M’sieur le Comte, 
and both completely had their own way with him. 
Madame la Comtesse had a little talk with Margot, 
and on a certain Thursday the lessons so unique 
and perfect began. 

Unique and perfect they were not, but they in¬ 
terested Margot, who listened with the colour rising 
to her cheeks and her velvety black-brown eyes fixed 
on the faces of her teachers. She still pursued her 
Trench in the town of Arles and talked it with 
M’selles de Close and de Blanc. She also read a 
little history, all in the French tongue, but occa¬ 
sionally her lovely eyes were fixed with a sort of 
dull amazement on the faces of these faded women, 
who no longer dressed to captivate their customers 


LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 


309 


at the Cabinet de Beaute, showed their true age 
which was anything but young. 

When the first week was over and the ladies had 
departed, little Margot skipped into her grand¬ 
father's room, flung herself on her knees by his side, 
and told him about les pauvres gouvernantes. 

Dost thou like them, my little one ? ” asked M. 
le Comte. 

ITo, grandpere,’’ was the reply. 

Why dost thou say that ? Thy words arrest and 
alarm me.” 

They are only wooden dolls,” said la petite Com- 
tesse. They have no thoughts. I do not thinlc 
they can instruct me, for I—I wish not to be vain, 
but I know more than they do.” 

M. le Comte was much distressed at hearing this. 

I like thy teaching best, grandpere. Tell them 
to go and come back no more.” 

I have engaged them for a month, ma pauvre 
petite. Thou must even bear with them for a month, 
mon ange, and then they shall go. But say not to 
them that they shall go! ” 

Non, non, mon grandpere, not for the world,” 
said Margot. 

The month came to an end. Margot endured it 
because she began to teach the aged, ignorant gov¬ 
ernesses herself. She found the task quite agreeable 


310 LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 

and did not mind what the ladies felt; in fact, they 
were fascinated by her talk and found her pretty 
speeches and gay manners truly diverting. They 
were earning large sums of money and had nothing 
to do. They were not teaching, they were being 
taught. 

At last the day came when the thunderbolt fell. 
Margot was sent up to her room. The two ladies 
arrived in a hurry together by special request of 
M. le Comte. 

Madame looked at them with anxious eyes. I 
did not know that you were quite so ignorant, 
Telicite,” she said, nor you, Therese. I have 
given mon mari Vargent to pay you both, but my 
poor friends, behold, you must come here no more! ’’ 

The astonished ladies were received by M. le 
Comte. He received them civilly but wdth a certain 
distance. He said he had other views for la petite. 
He paid them their month’s money, which Madame 
had given him for the purpose, and they walked 
down the neatly kept avenue, burning rage in their 
hearts. Why had they made themselves so ugly 
for so poor a reward ? Suddenly, as they were ap¬ 
proaching Arles, hoping not to be recognised, whom 
should they see coming to meet them but several 
girls belonging to the school of la Princesse de 
Pleury! Amongst these girls was Louise Grognan. 


LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 


311 


Most of the girls took no notice whatsoever of the 
faded-looking old ladies, but Louise recognised them. 
Quick as thought she made up her mind. She said 
a word to her companion, explained that she knew 
the cheres demoiselles, and presently was walking 
by their sides. 

You keep the Cabinet de Beautef she said. 

We do and we have almost ruined ourselves for 
nothing,” said M’selle Close. Tears crept between 
her eyelids. 

Tell me everything,” said Louise, and perhaps 
I can help.” 

You ! How can you possibly help ? ” 

Well, at least tell me; I will do my best.” 

So the old ladies described how they had to give 
up their profession. They could no longer use the 
masseuse on the hand nor the rouge on the cheeks. 
They could no longer direct as they used to do, the 
daily programme of their pupils. Everything was 
at an end because, forsooth, Madame la Comtesse 
St. Juste required the best part of the day for one 
of these ladies; turn about truly, ah, yes, turn about, 
to teach la petite Comtesse. But, behold, they could 
not teach. It was true, alas, more than true! They 
could give vast instructions as to massage and the 
brushing of the hair and the delicate touch of rouge 
on the cheeks but what did they know of German 


312 LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 

or of geograpliy ? The world for them consisted 
of la belle France. Was there another land? Ah, 
well, they did not know of it. Still la charmante 
petite Comtesse was all that was elegant and delight¬ 
ful, and she would beyond doubt have a very great 
dot some day, and she would marry according to the 
French custom into the high nobility. They found 
it tiresome to sit with the child and teach her noth¬ 
ing, hut behold she taught them, and she knew, ah, 
ten times as much as they did! It was wonderful 
to listen to her. There were other countries— 
Angleterre, Irlande, a country called Germany, and 
lands many and wonderful across the deep, deep sea. 
It was like listening to a fairy tale to hear la petite 
talk, and they were getting a good salary. Ah, ouij 
tres bien, riest-ce pas! But behold, the old Comte, 
he was angry, and la petite Comtesse must have 
told him things. She looked true at heart, but she 
was not true at heart; and behold, undoubtedly, she 
had enlightened M. le Comte concerning them. 
They were sent away in disgrace. Their hearts were 
broken. 

Do you want your revenge ? ’’ asked Louise. 

Bevenge, certainement, but could there be re¬ 
venge ? ’’ 

I tell you there can,^’ said Louise. I failed, 
but you can succeed. You, Felicite Close, will re- 


LE CABINET DE BEAUTE. 


313 


ceive me in your Cabinet de Beaute to-morrow, and 
behold, you will manicure my hands, and while so 
doing, I—I myself will enlighten you and you shall 
avenge yourselves upon the Comte/’ 

C'est hien, cest bien/' murmured M’selle Blanc. 

At two o’clock to-morrow I will arrive,” said 
Louise. Keep me not waiting, I beseech of you, 
M’selle Close and M’selle Blanc. I will teach you 
both how to avenge yourselves on M’sieur le Comte 
at the Chateau St. Juste.” 

Accordingly Louise returned home in the highest 
spirits, and wrote a letter of rapture to Tilly at 
Clapham Common. 

There is still of the hope,” she wrote, the hope 
that never dies. Keep up your spirits, Matilda 
Baynes. Most unexpectedly has the hope arisen. 
It fills the sky like the most beautiful sunset. Be¬ 
hold, it is golden and close at hand. I shall have 
earned my sixty francs, and thou wilt invite me to 
thy chateau of renown in the aristocratic quarter 
called Clapham Common. I will visit you in Angle- 
terre, and in Clapham Common we shall clasp hands 
^nd meet heart to heart.” 


CHAPTEK XX. 


A CONSPIEACY. 

Certainly Madame la Princesse de Fleury kept 
her school with a sort of easy nonchalance, which 
was much appreciated by the girls. In especial, 
these girls liked their half-holidays, when they could 
wander about pretty much as they pleased. It is 
true that the boarders had to submit to a certain 
amount of restraint, but as quite haK the school 
were day girls they had only to say that they were 
going home to visit their dear relations, absolutely 
to satisfy that very innocent lady la Princesse. 

Xow, Louise lived at Arles. Her father’s restau¬ 
rant was not far from the great school, and not far 
away again was the mansion where Louise slept each 
night, and at times, half-holidays and such like, en¬ 
joyed the pleasure of her friends’ company. The 
day following that on which she met M’selle Close 
and M’selle Blanc was a half-holiday, and as her 
father supplied her freely with cash, she had whis¬ 
pered to one or two companions of a fete, ah, ires 
ravissant, where certain of her dearest friends. 


314 


A CONSPIRACY. 


315 


could join her and eat chocolats and cakes to their 
hearts’ delight. But Louise did not dare to lose 
this most precious half-holiday. She accordingly 
announced to her friends, Marcella and Berthe, that 
they must put off their time of ravissement until 
the next half-holiday, for behold! consider! she, 
Louise, had work of the most particular to do. It 
was urgent, it was immediate—it had to come at 
once, at once. 

The girls, of course, had to submit, and Louise, 
dressing herself as gracefully as she could, appeared 
at the Cabinet de Beaute at the hour named. 

She was received at once by the two ladies, was 
shown into a private room, and while one manicured 
her finger-nails, and the other made of her hair an 
arrangement the most perfect, she told her story. 
She said what she required. She also declared that 
when the deed was done, ah, riche, ires riche would 
be the reward. 

''Mon pere, he has much d'argent said Louise. 

He will pay well. How listen, M’selle Blanc and 
M’selle Close. You went as gouvernantes to la 
petite Comtesse.” 

“ Ah, oui, ouif' said the ladies, and badly, hor¬ 
ribly were we treated. It was the doing of Venfant; 
there is no doubt she is a snake in the grass.” 


316 


A CONSPIEACY. 


I would say she was a green lizard on the sunny 
wall,” said Louise. 

Ah, make me not to shudder, Moselle Grognan.” 

!N’ow, I want to tell you about la petite Com- 
tesse,” continued Louise. “ She is the daughter, 
it is true, of the late Comte Henri St. Juste, and 
her grandfather is the Comte St. Juste. She has, 
therefore, a right to her title of la petite Comtesse, 
but behold, do you think she keeps to that which we 
desire? Ah, non, non, far from that. Would you 
suppose that la petite sold me this chapeau ? ” for 
Louise was wearing the grass-green chapeau on pur¬ 
pose. 

Non, non!' exclaimed both ladies. It is per¬ 
fect, assuredly, but la petite, she does not sell—to 
sell is to belong to us. We sell, thy father, M’selle, 
he sells; but la petite she belongs to the nobility. 
I hate them, pour moi, still they exist.” 

How will you listen, Moselle Blanc,” exclaimed 
Louise. It is true, what I tell you—it is true 
what I tell you both. M’selle has a grand’pere, and 
also la belle grand’mere employs her in her magasin 
—^kept it is supposed by Madame Marcelle, but 
really it flourishes because of the rare taste of la 
petite Comtesse Margot. She goes there daily for 
two hours a day, and behold! the chapeaux they 
vanish; the robes they disappear; the dainty ribbons 


A COI^^SPIBACY. 


317 


and sashes and gloves, they are not; the embroidered 
stockings they are not; the shoes they are not; and 
all because of the taste of la petite. Think you 
that the etahlissement would flourish without la 
petite’^ Well, now, M. le Comte St. Juste, he knows 
nothing of this, but I want you both to enlighten 
him. I have my reasons which I need not disclose; 
will you both, clieres M'selles, dress as the youngest 
do—ah, so beautifully; make the variety of the 
toilette, the change that pleases, that enchants ? 
Wear a chapeau noir, M’selle Blanc, garnished with 
roses la reine; and you, Moselle Close, wear le petit 
chapeau avec une plume noire et sans roses. Oh, 
la, la, you will both look but eighteen; then go 
straight to see M’sieur the Comte St. Juste, wear¬ 
ing the touch of rouge—only the mere touch—and 
that tone of darkness under the eyes which gives 
the expression so nouvelle et si jeune. You will 
know what to do. Do not allude to the fact that 
you came as gouvernantes alternate days to the little 
snake in the grass and the little green lizard basking 
in the sun. Speak to him as strangers. Have you 
got any friends whose names you could assume for 
the purpose ? ” 

The ladies knew many of the noblesse. They 
could, ah, oui, certainement, choose the names. 

Ah, well, go, my good friends, and fascinate 


818 


A CONSPIRACY. 


the ancient Comte. He will admire, he will adore. 
He is susceptible to the charms of beauty. When 
you have won his confidence he will talk of your 
chapeau, Moselle Blanc, and yours, M’selle Close; 
and then you must raise the hands in rapture, and 
talk and talk and talk, and when you have roused his 
enthusiasm, you must tell him that these things were 
chosen and sold to you by one tres jeune and tres 
belle. Excite his interest; tell him that there never 
was one with quite such taste as that jeune petite. 
He will offer to go with you to see that young 
marvel, and behold! you will take him. You will go 
in my car, and you will take him with you into the 
town and into the etahlissement, and he will see la 
petite Comtesse; he will know for himself what his 
granddaughter does. The little green lizard will 
shine no longer in the sun; the little green snake in 
the grass must from henceforth conceal herself; and 
I, see! I will reward you both.’’ 

How much ? ” asked M’selle Blanc, who felt 
considerably afraid of M. le Comte. 

I will ask mon pere; I will tell him all. What 
do you say to being robed from head to foot by 
la petite Comtesse in the etahlissement Marcelle? 
Think what a joy that will be! Such a perfect 
reward. Then listen again—I know mothers and 
elder sisters of M’selles in my school; they shall 


A CONSPIEACY. 


319 


come to you—oh! in numbers, to have their youth 
renewed. Is not that enough ? ” 

M’selle Close and M’selle Blanc thought that the 
terms were sufficient and arranged to go on the 
following morning to visit M. le Comte. Meanwhile 
M’selle was to send them les chapeaux ravissants, 
admirable, which they were to wear for the occasion. 
They must look truly jeunes demoiselles. 

l^ow then, I must go, hut I will send the cha¬ 
peaux, rest assured.^’ 

Louise departed, and M’selle Blanc and M’selle 
Close consulted together how they were to turn them¬ 
selves into jeunes demoiselles. They had, it is true, 
many patrons, and after consulting for a short time 
together, they decided to adopt the names of two 
young ladies who had come to the Cabinet de Beaute 
to have their hands manicured, and who belonged to 
the noblesse. 

These young ladies, they were assured, were ab¬ 
sent from home at present. They might with safety 
take their names. They were the daughters of the 
Marquis Odile. They had only lately taken a house 
at Arles, where they lived with their father and 
mother, and were called the Marquise Clotilde and 
the Marquise Bose. 

Ah,’’ exclaimed M’selle Blanc, “ that name will 
suit my chapeau noir, garnished with roses la reine/* 


320 


A CONSPIRACY. 


The Marquise Clotilde would look very sweet in¬ 
deed in her tres petit chapeau. 

The chapeaux arrived, all in good time. The 
ladies arranged themselves in fear and trembling; 
saw that they could appear with perfect ease as les 
jeunes demoiselles; and went to bed that night with 
hearts beating high with excitement. Ah, but the 
revenge was good, and the adventure of the whole 
thing was exciting. 

They scarcely slept that night for thinking of their 
triumph. Early the next morning, by the explicit 
directions of Louise, they attired themselves in 
dresses of pure white with little sashes of blue. The 
ravishing hats were perched on their heads, the 
slight touch of rouge was delicately applied to each 
faded cheek, and then large veils were put on to 
cover any possible defects. 

They were naturally slight in figure. Sharp at 
ten in the morning, at the very hour when Louise 
told them it would be right for them to go, they 
started on their mission to the Chateau St. Juste. 
Louise had sent one of her father’s cars for them. 
This was to wait to bring them back again. 

Madame la Comtesse was always out at that hour. 
She was in reality occupied in the back premises of 
the etablissement; for Madame Marcelle was little 
better than a figurehead. The old Comte was alone. 


A CONSPIRACY. 


321 


He felt well and happy—the day was a mild one. 
He thought he would enjoy the outside air. He 
would even go in the direction of the peach garden. 

Suddenly, as he was approaching it, he raised 
his delicate old hand to protect his sunken, dark 
eyes, and to watch in surprise an automobile which 
was coming quickly down the avenue. He wanted 
to fly; hut a check string was applied, the chauffeur 
stopped a Vinstant, and two pretty girls approached 
—the Marquises Odile, connections of his. Ah, yes, 
assuredly. They introduced themselves, they talked, 
they chatted. 

One Marquise, the Marquise Clotilde, insisted on 
his taking her arm; the Marquise Rose walked at his 
other side. He forgot his peach garden in the pleas¬ 
ure of talking to them. He called them tres douce 
et tres telle. He had not the faintest suspicion that 
they were the withered and ugly gouvemantes 
whom he had turned away with scorn a little while 
ago. 

Ah, hut I must call on your esteemed father. 
Marquise Clotilde. He is younger than I am, alas, 
hut I will call, certainement; and for you, ma telle 
Rose, let me see if I can give you something as 
ravishing out of my garden as those roses which you 
wear in your chapeau.’’ 


322 


A CONSPIRACY. 


Did you ever see a chapeau more tres belle f 
said the Marquise Rose. 

It is of the most perfect,” said the old Comte. 
There is a wondrous lady who sells these 
things,” said Marquise Clotilde. She sells them at 
an etablissement kept by a certain Madame Mar- 
celle. We buy our things there. We have recon¬ 
structed ourselves since we came to Arles. The 
young m’selle, si jeune et si belle, does better for 
us than any of the Parisian magasins/' 

I can scarcely believe that,” said le Comte. 
Will you not come with us, M. le Comte, and 
see for yourself ? Our car waits your orders. The 
air is of the spring, reviving with its mildness. Get 
in, M’sieur, get in. We will take you in a flash to 
the etablissement, and you will see la belle 'petite 
with the taste so superb. Afterwards we will go 
and visit mon pere/* 

The old Comte felt in a mood for adventure. 
These demoiselles were very charming, and he would 
like himself to see la petite who had the taste so 
rare and simple. 

Accordingly he went as far as the house, leaning 
now on the arm of the Marquise Rose, but holding 
the hand of the Marquise Clotilde. He desired his 
valet to clothe him in his coat of fur and to place at 
his feet a hot bottle. The automobile was closed by 


A CONSPIRACY. 


323 


his desire. Les jeunes demoiselles nearly fainted 
with the heat, but their task would soon he over; 
their revenge would he complete and their reward 
would he in their hands. 

They chattered all the way with the gay prattle 
of young birds. The very old Comte thought how 
delightful was youth; he was glad, very glad, tO' 
meet his own relations. 

At last they stopped at the etablissement. The 
old Comte got out, and the les Marquises accompan¬ 
ied him—all seemed going well, of the best. The 
assistants bowed; the shopwalkers were ready to take 
these distinguished strangers to whatever department 
they pleased. 

The Comte felt his cheeks flush with eagerness. 
This was really a very gay adventure. He liked gay 
adventures; but at that moment there was standing, 
just behind the Marquises and the Comte, la 'petite 
Comtesse. She had gone herself to fetch a certain 
lace for a certain customer. One glance served to 
pierce the disguise of the ugly gouvernantes; one 
glance told to her horror-stricken eyes that mon 
grandpere le Comte was in the etablissement. 

Quickly, like a flash, she entered that part of the 
magasin which was kept for underclothing, and 
with which she had nothing to do. From there she 


324 


A CONSPIEACY. 


got into the back premises, where she beheld la belle 
grand’mere. 

Oh, hide me, hide me,’’ cried little Margot; 

“ I will tell thee what has occurred. Those gouv~ 
ernantes so ignorant are in the etablissement with 
grandpere. They are powdered and rouged and 
wearing our chapeaux —they are pretending the 
youth. Ah, but if he knows, if he sees, it will break 
his heart.” 

Fret not thyself, ma petite/* said la belle grand’- 
mere. Stay quietly with me. Thou wilt be asked 
for of necessity, but I will say that thou hast mal a 
la tete^ 

But non> grand’mere,” cried little Margot, be¬ 
hold, it is not mal a la tete; it is sorrow at the 
heart.” 

Well, that suffices, mon enfant/* 

The Comte, his cheeks growing pinker, his eyes 
brighter, accompanied by those charming demoiselles, 
the young Marquises, asked everywhere for la petite, 
la petite, the lady who had the taste so ravishing; 
but although many were waiting for her, there was 
no sign of la petite, 

A message came at last to say that she was in- • 
disposed for that one morning and could not appear. 

The ladies felt a keen and unaccountable sense 
of disappointment. The old Comte knew that the 


A CONSPIRACY. 


325 


adventure was over, but be would occupy bimself by 
buying a brooch of the very finest sapphires for his 
little Margot. 

The Ladies Odile stood behind him. It was just 
at that moment that two very beautiful, dark young 
girls, accompanied by a stately gentleman in middle 
life, entered the etahlissement. The girls were tall; 
they were really very young; they had a glow of 
health, not rouge on their cheeks. The eldest called 
herself Rose, the other was Clotilde. Suddenly the 
father of these fair young girls made a graceful 
plunge forward. It was rapid, and only a French¬ 
man could do it without awkwardness. 

He seized the hand of M. le Comte. 

Ah, behold, behold, mon ami/' he said, what 
joy is here. I came to get some pretty trifles for 
my daughters, Rose and Clotilde; but I will present 
them first to thee, mon ami, I have heard wonder¬ 
ful stories of this etahlissement. We are anxious to 
see the little wonder, as she is called. Ah, we see 
her not! Clotilde, make thy curtsey to M. le Comte 
St. Juste; Rose, do thou likewise.’’ 

But—but-” said the astonished and amazed 

old Comte. But—but-” mimicked the father 

of Rose and Clotilde. I am the Marquis Odile. 
Thy cousin and thy friend, mon ami," 

I am bewildered,” said the poor old Comte. 




326 


A CONSPIRACY. 


All day Rose and Clotilde have been with me. 
They brought me here; I thought them charmantes; 
but I see them not. What does all this mean ? 

The trembling, terrified ladies who kept the Cab¬ 
inet de Beauts knew only too well what it all meant. 
The real Marquis and the real Marquises had ap¬ 
peared in the flesh. As fast as their trembling legs 
could carry them, they reached the door. They got 
into the automobile and drove to the Cabinet de 
Beauts. 

We have had a terrible escape,” murmured 
M’selle Blanc. ITever, never will I undertake 
such work again,” said M’selle Close. 

Tremblingly they got off their hats and appeared 
in their usual dress. 

The Marquis brought the Comte back to his cha¬ 
teau in his own automobile. The young Marquises 
Rose and Clotilde made him lie down, and petted 
him and talked to him as though they were his 
daughters. 

When la pauvre grand’mere entered, an hour or 
so later, she found her beloved one calm and easy in 
his mind. It was only after M. le Marquis and his 
beautiful young daughters had gone that he told 
her of his very great adventure. 

It was the biggest of all my life,” he said. 

Two ladies, tres belles and tres jeunes, appeared 


A CONSPIRACY. 


327 


and introduced themselves as mes cousines, les Mar¬ 
quises Rose et Clotilde. Ah, hut they were char- 
mantes. Then behold, they spoke to me of a wonder, 
a tres petite wonder in the etahlissement of Madam© 
Marcelle. They asked me to go with them to see 
her, and I went.” 

Ah, hut thou naughty one; thou adorable 
naughty one,” said la Comtesse. 

But behold, listen,” continued the old man. I 
enjoyed myself; they were so gay, so young, so 
brilliant in the cheeks, so dainty in the chapeaux. 
Then I arrived. They took me in their own car; 
but I could not see that petite wonder, who seems 
to rule the etahlissement; and suddenly, behold, the 
real Marquis Odile appeared with his beautiful 
daughters, Bose and Clotilde. Ah, but it was an ad¬ 
venture ; it was wonderful. Thinkest thou, Madame 
beloved, that the others were—^were spirits ? I 
looked to right, I looked to left, and nowhere could 
I see them after the Marquis appeared. Thinkest 
thou they were spirits, Madame la Comtesse ? ” 

They were wicked women,” said Madame. 

They thought to take thee in, but they failed.” 

“ Ah, but indeed they were not wicked,” said M. 
le Comte. “ They looked young and elegant. How 
gently did the one who called herself Clotilde sup¬ 
port my feeble steps; and how admirable were the 


328 


A CONSPIRACY. 


manners of the one called Rose. I will amuse my¬ 
self well this afternoon in telling the story of this 
queer adventure to la 'petite Comtesse.’’ 

Please thyself, mon Alphonse; hut now lie 
quietly and rest, while I prepare the bouillon which 
will nourish thee after those adventures, which only 
ought to happen to the young.’’ 

The entire story was repeated to Margot when 
she appeared on the scene; but the old man seemed 
now dull and drowsy and stupid. Perhaps he was 
too old for adventures—he could not say. As the 
evening advanced, he talked in a puzzled way of 
two Marquises called Rose, and two Marquises called 
Clotilde, and of a little wonder ” in a certain 
etahlissement. He was decidedly feverish, and Mar¬ 
got held his hand and soothed him as only she knew 
how. 

Oh the wicked, wicked women,” sobbed la belle 
grand’mere, after the doctor had come and gone. 
“ The wicked, wicked women, to injure mon Al¬ 
phonse.” 

When Margot had a minute of time to attend to 
la belle grand’mere, she told her that the false Mar¬ 
quises were only her hideous old gouvernantes 
dressed up to look young, and that she herself 
meant to give them a piece of her mind. 

I mean to spend the entire night with grand- 


A CONSPIRACY. 


329 


pere/^ she said. Weep not, ma belle grand’mere. 
He got a shock, and only I can keep him from 
being puzzled by the two names—the two names 
twice over. I will go to him, ma belle grand’mere.” 

Yes, go, my blessed child,” said the little Ma¬ 
dame; and she felt at that moment that even the 
dot for Margot, and her etablissement, were as noth¬ 
ing compared to mon Alphonse —mon Alphonse the 
adorable, the love of her life. 


CHAPTEK XXL 


THE PALACE OF TRUTH. 

Ih the morning, the old Comte St. Juste was less^ 
feverish, hut nevertheless not himself. He had, as 
he complained, a confused feeling. The world was 
full of Hoses—oh, the most charmantes —and of 
Clotildes equally divine. They were coming up the 
avenue in automobiles, they were entering the room, 
they were sitting with him, they were pouring into 
his ear the fact that his mission was not accom¬ 
plished. He had gone to the Hdblissement, hut he 
had not seen the little wonder. He could not rest 
until he saw her. In vain Margot tried to soothe 
him. She longed beyond words to quiet his mind 
by telling him the simple truth—that she was la 
petite, she was the little wonder of the etahlisse- 
ment Marcelle. But when she hinted at such a 
proceeding to la telle grand’mere, that poor woman 
gave a cry of bitter horror. 

Thou wilt kill mon Alphonse; thou wilt not he 
so cruel, thou canst not be so cruel.’’ 

^^Ah, but I ought, I ought,” sobbed Margot. 

330 


THE PALACE OF TRUTH. 


331 


Madame la grand’mere consulted with the doctor. 

M. le docteur said that if anything was told 
at the present moment to excite the very old man, it 
would be his death; if Margot would not promise- 
silence, she must keep out of the room.’’ 

It will soothe him, ma helle grand’mere,” cried 
little Margot. 

Nevertheless la Comtesse kept the child irom tho 
sick man’s room. One hour he grew better, another 
hour weaker, his strength kept fluctuating; then he 
began to watch the door. 

It will soon be time for la petite Comtesse to 
return; I want la petite/^ he said to his wife. 

The distracted woman kept on telling him that she 
would soon appear; the Comte kept on listenings 
he fixed his sunken eyes on the clock. 

How soon will the time fly ? ” he cried impa¬ 
tiently ; how soon will la petite be in these arms ? ” 
Poor little Margot was upstairs, struggling with 
the great despair that had visited her. The dear 
old man—the dearest old man in all the world ex¬ 
cept The Desmond—^why was she not with him?— 
how wicked of people to tell lies; she would never 
tell another. She resolved as soon as she returned 
to Desmondstown to tell The Desmond also the 
whole truth. 

Toward evening the Comte’s temperature went 


332 THE PALACE OF TBUTH. 

down; it went down to normal—^below normal—far 
below. Madame was thankful, thinking the worst 
was over. 

The old man dropped into a quiet sleep; he looked 
very aged in that sleep. The doctor came in. Ma¬ 
dame exclaimed excitedly: 

Ah, Monsieur le docteur, I have news of the 
best. His temperature is-” 

Then she suddenly stopped speaking—the doctor^s 
face was very grave. He prepared a strong stimu¬ 
lant and forced the old man to swallow it in tea¬ 
spoonfuls. Then he went into another room with 
Madame la Comtesse. 

“ What is the matter ? ’’ he said. Has the child 
betrayed you ? ” 

Non, non/* replied Madame. I have put her 
upstairs, but he thinks she is still at school at Arles 
—learning, ever learning; dancing, ever dancing; 
making herself tres jolie —ah, that is what he thinks, 
mon adored one.” 

Listen, Madame,” said the doctor. Your hus¬ 
band is ill, very ill indeed. Keep the little one 
away if you can, but if not, let her go to him. It 
may be possible that the truth and the truth alone 
may save him even now. I will come back in two 
hours. Try to save him from shock, if possible; 



THE PALACE OF TRUTH. 


333 


but behold! if it is necessary, fetch la 'petite Com- 
tesse.’^ 

The doctor departed and Madame went back to 
her husband’s bedside. He was talking in a ram¬ 
bling, feeble way, and kept looking first at the clock 
and then at the door. 

""La petite, she does not arrive,” he said sud¬ 
denly. As suddenly a thought flashed through the 
mind of la Comtesse. 

She will not be here till late to-night, 'mon 
Alphonse,” was her reply. She has been asked to 
partake of tisane with her cousins, the Marquises 
Clotilde et Rose. She will have much to tell thee 
when she does enter thy room.” 

Ah,” said the poor old Comte feebly, is she 
also one of those who overlook the old, the very 
aged, when they can hardly speak, hardly think? 
Time flies for us both—ah, 'ma petite Comtesse, 
mon ange, I may not be here if thou dost delay. I 
want her to tell me-” 

What, my unhappy one ? ” asked his wife. 

All about that wonderful petite who performs 
such extraordinary feats at the etahlissement which 
once was thine, my Mnon.” 

All of a sudden the heart of Hinon rose in a great 
wave. It seemed to struggle for utterance. She 
could scarcely contain herself. 



334 


THE PALACE OF TRUTH. 


Harken, mon Alpkonse/’ she said. I will go 
myself and see whether the automobile has yet re¬ 
turned.’’ • 

Ah, do, my Hinon,” replied the Comte. Thou, 
at least, hast always been faithful and true—faith¬ 
ful, loving and true. I trust thee to the uttermost.” 

The poor woman staggered out of the room. She 
was met by little Margot, who was standing in the 
passage, and whose face was the colour of a white 
sheet. Her deep, dark eyes were full of untold 
misery. 

Belle grand’mere,” she began—^but grand’mere 
had no words to express her feelings. She pointed 
to the door where the sick man lay. 

Thou mayst save him. Thou hast my permis¬ 
sion,” she said in the lowest whisper; and little Mar¬ 
got with her gentle step entered the darkened room. 

She knew at once that it was a trifle too hot. She 
opened wide one of the French windows;* she let in 
the soft air, which, winter-time as it was in most 
places, felt like summer here. The old man breathed 
more easily. He turned on his pillow. He opened 
his eyes, so very sunken in his head, but they lit 
up with a joy beyond expression when he saw little 
Margot. 

Ah, I am weak, mon enfant/' he said. But 
thou hast come, ma 'petite. Put thy little hand on 


THE PALACE OF TRUTH. 


335 


mine. There is life in thy little hand; lay it on 
mine. Ah, ma 'petite, how greatly do I love thee.’^ 

And I thee, mo'n grandpere,” cried Margot. 

Tell me,” said the Comte, after a few minutes’ 
silence, during which Margot had fed him with 
some of the doctor’s restorative—tell me what thou 
didst do at the etahlisse'ment to-day. Didst thou 
buy a chapeau ?—didst thou watch the little wo'nder 
as she sold chapeaux and robes for Madame Mar- 
celle ? ” 

“ I was not there at all to-day, grandpere.” 

Ah, ma petite, but wast thou there yesterday ? ” 
'' Mais oui/' said Margot. 

And didst thou perchance see the little 
'wonder ?'''' 

I saw her; she is not a wonder.” 

Ah, ma petite, be thou not of the jealous ones! ” 
said the old man. That would not be worthy of 
thee. Thou hast thy gifts; she has hers. Her cha¬ 
peaux, they are perfect. Her taste, it is what I 
never saw before. Tell me about her, cherie/' 

I will,” said Margot, if thou, mon grandpere, 
will let me put both of my hands round one of 
thine, and if thou wilt promise not to—not to turn 
me away afterwards.” 

Turn thee away, best beloved, it couldn’t be.” 

Ah, but it might be,” said little Margot. 


336 


THE PALACE OF TRUTH. 


There is a burden on thy mind; there is a—I call 
it not a fear, but it approaches in the direction of 
a fear. La petite who sells les chapeaux, les robes 
and all the other articles of refinement in the Hah- 
lissement, is thine own Margot, Dost thou hear 
me ? I will not keep it back from thee any longer. 
La pauvre belle grand^mere thought that it was best 
for thee not to know, but there are cruel people in 
the world who tried to tell thee, but failed, so now 
I tell thee. The ladies who came here yesterday 
were of the cruel sort; the girl in the grass-green 
hat was of the cruel sort; but thy Margot—thy Mar¬ 
got— mon grandpere, art thou angry ? 

With thee ? Mais non — non! His face was 
whiter than ever; he could scarcely swallow. After 
a little he seemed to gather strength. 

Call thy belle grand’mere back to me, Margot,” 
he said. 

Margot fetched the poor woman. She came in, 
trembling from head to foot. 

I have told him; he had to know,” whispered 
Margot. 

The old man’s eyes were bright now with some 
of the brightness of yore; his voice was firmer, too. 

Listen, Hinon,” he said, behold! Keep thy 
hand in mine, Margot, beloved. Ninon, I thought 
thou wert truthful, and I thought this child truthful. 


THE PALACE OF TRUTH. 


337 


but she, la 'petite, has told me all the truth at last. 
I cannot appear before the Great Almighty with 
the sin of pride on my soul. Behold, now, we are 
all alike in Heaven; only make me one promise, 
Hinon. Hever again shall this little one enter the 
etahlisseme'nt of Madame Marcelle, never except to 
buy.” 

She shall not, mon Alphonse,” said Hinon, fall¬ 
ing at his side and burying her face in the counter¬ 
pane and beginning to weep. 

Thy tears distress me,” said the old man. “ Be¬ 
hold la petite, she does not weep.” 

I come of those who regard tears as not wise,” 
said Margot; but, behold! I promise thee, grand- 
pere, I promise with all—all my heart. I will 
never again sell in the etahlissement Marcelle.” 

“ Then see! how happy I am,” said M. le Comte. 

I am in the palace of truth. For a long time I 
lived in the palace of lies; gorgeous in colour was 
that palace and very beautiful to the senses, never¬ 
theless it was the palace of lies. How I breathe the 
healthy air of truth. Thou hast spoken, 'inon en¬ 
fant; thou hast promised, 'ma Hinon; there is no 
pride left. For me, I also did wrong. The spirit 
of pride led me wrong.” 

Then, grand'mere, we are all happy together,” 


338 


THE PALACE OF TRUTH. 


said Margot; see!—do not talk, be has fallen 

asleep.” 

Tbe old Comte St. Juste bad fallen asleep, and 
there was a lovely smile, something like that of an 
angel, on bis face. Tbe child and tbe woman 
watched him. The doctor came in presently and 
shook his head. He deliberately took a seat in the 
room and partly closed the window which Margot 
had opened. 

The restorative, M. le docteur/' cried poor Ma¬ 
dame. 

He could not swallow now,” said the doctor, 

but I will stay; yes, I will stay to the end.” 

The end came in the early hours of the morning. 
The old Comte slipped silently, softly and pain¬ 
lessly out of this life into a better one; and poor 
belle grand’mere cried as though her heart would 
break, but Margot did not cry. She made wreaths 
of violets, out of their own garden, to surround him. 
She was never idle for a moment. She put in his 
hands the Rose of Trance. 

He had lost the look of age; he had slipped back 
twenty, even thirty years; but for his white hair, 
he did not look so very old. 

It is because the angels have kissed him,” said 
little Margot. 

Madame wept nearly the whole of the day; but 


THE PALACE OF TRUTH. 339 

IVTargot kept quiet, thoughtful, busy. She had much 
to do for la belle grand’mere. 

Toward evening the tired woman lay down and 
slept; and little Margot sat in the room with her 
dead grandfather, where the great wax candles were 
lighted seven at the head of the bed, and seven at 
the feet. The room was full of the scent of violets. 

If that is death, I should like to go, too, some 
day,’’ thought little Margot. 

All in a moment, she observed the sweet smile 
on the lips of the dead man, and there came a lump 
in her throat. Had she not remembered that she 
was a Desmond she might have cried; but being 
a Desmond she kept back her tears. 

The servants sat in the passage outside. They 
were surprised that Margot should like to be alone 
with the dead; but Margot was without fear be¬ 
cause she loved so dearly. 

I am glad I told him,” she said once or twice 
to herself; and then she thought of The Desmond 
and resolved that she would tell him, too, for lies 
were not of the Kingdom of God, and she wanted 
to belong to that kingdom and to that alone. What 
did a dot matter?—what did riches matter? 

Pauvre belle grand’mere,” thought the little girl. 

I will always uphold her and strengthen her and 


340 


THE PALACE OF TEUTH. 


help her in my little, poor way; but she shall not 
spend her money on me.” 

After the funeral the will was read. 

Fergus Desmond and Uncle Jacko came over for 
the service and the after ceremony. Margot was 
quietly told of the extent of the funds which would 
he at her disposal when she came of age, or before 
that if she married. They were her French grand¬ 
father’s present to his beloved grandchild. 

Poor la belle grand’mere looked with anguish at 
Margot. Margot took her hand. 

I must speak the truth, and now,” she said. 

Mon grandpere was rich only because of this most 
dear lady; and I will not take the money, no, not 
a penny of it. She earned it for him, for him!'' 

You cannot refuse,” said the notary. See, 
there was a deed of gift made to you. The dead 
would walk if you did refuse;” but Margot said 
gently and firmly that she did not believe in that 
sort of thing, for chere grandpere was in the heav¬ 
enly garden with God, and that anyhow she now 
meant to make a deed of gift. 

All those present turned and stared at her. 

Behold! ” she cried. The dot was arranged 
for me, who care not for money at all. I give back 
every farthing of it to la belle grand’mere; and I 
will come and see her once at least every year; and 


THE PALACE OF TRUTH. 


341 


I love her, for she has a true, brave heart; hut now 
I must go hack to The Desmond, for I hear his 
voice calling me across the waters.” 

All in vain did la belle grand’mere implore of lit¬ 
tle Margot not to make the deed of gift for her; to 
forget her—^not to think of her at all; but Margot 
could never forget, and would never take the 
money. 

In the end her wishes were carried out, and la 
belle grand^mere returned to the etahlissement at 
Arles. The Chateau St. Juste was shut up for the 
present, but once every year it was to be opened and 
filled with servants, and little Margot was to spend 
a month there with la belle grand’mere. For al¬ 
though she had given up the dot, she could not by 
any manner of means dispose of the Chateau St. 
Juste, which was her direct property, coming to her 
through her own father and grandfather. 


CHAPTEE XXII. 


IT IS JOYFUL TO BEHOLD THEE^ MY PUSHKEEN. 

On their way back to Desmondstown, Margot 
told Uncle Fergus that she meant to tell The Des¬ 
mond everything. 

He will be shocked/’ returned Fergus Desmond. 

Xo/’ replied Margot, the truth told as I shall 
tell it can never shock anyone. I will not allow 
him to think me what I am not. Uncle Fergus, 
I thought you were too great to permit it.” 

I have not your strength of character, my 
child,” said The Desmond of the future. 

As little Margot had come back to Desmondstown 
now to live, as it was to be her home in the future, 
with the exception of the one month which she would 
spend with la helle grand’mere, and as mon grand- 
pere was dead, her return was quiet and without 
that sense of rejoicing which stimulated it on her 
last return. There were no bonfires; there were no 
excited, screaming peasants; but Phinias Ma¬ 
loney was there with his little old cart, and the baby 
had grown so big that his mother thought that she 
342 


IT IS JOYFUL TO BEHOLD THEE^ MY PUSHKEEH. 843 

might bring him out just for the hit colleen to kiss 
him. They drove quietly up to the rickety old 
house. 

The girls were standing in the hall, all three of 
them dressed as young and as little like their age as 
ever. They all came forward to greet her, but 
Auntie iN’orah cried out: 

Whyever aren’t ye in black, pushkeen ? ” 

Why should I be in black ? ” replied Margot. 

Because, for sure, isn’t your French grandfa¬ 
ther killed entirely ? ” 

My French grandfather is in heaven, and very 
—^very happy,” said Margot. He is with God, 
the dear God who loves us all, and I am not going 
to wear black for him, for if he could speak to me 
now he wouldn’t like it. I loved him most dearly; 
I shall always love his memory, but now I want 
The Desmond and Madam.” 

Then whip into the room,” said Bridget. 

Why, to say the least of it, you know your way 
about, pushkeen.” 

Yes,” said Margot. She could not help giving 
a happy little laugh; she could not help feeling a 
great load rolling off her heart. This was her real 
home, her beloved home, her home of all homes. 
There were no people like the Irish; there was no 
one in the world like The Desmond. 


344 IT IS JOYFUL TO BEHOLD THEE^ MY PUSHKEEH. 

She was wearing a little dress of thick, white 
serge, coat and skirt to match, and a piece of white 
fox fur round her neck; her little cap was also of 
white and was pushed back off her dark hair. Her 
cheeks were blooming with roses. The Desmond 
had felt a momentary fear at the thought of meet¬ 
ing his little granddaughter, but when he saw her 
with her rosy cheeks and brilliant dark eyes and 
white apparel, he gave a sigh of rapture. 

Eh, eh, but it is joyful to behold ye, my push- 
keen,” he cried, and then they were clasped in each 
other’s arms. 

Madam went out, as was her custom, to prepare 
supper for the little pushkeen; and this was Mar¬ 
got’s opportunity to tell her proud old grandfather 
what had occurred. 

She told him all from beginning to end; her 
great dark eyes were fixed on his face; his eyes, 
nearly as dark, regarded her gravely. She did not 
leave out a single point. She explained the entire 
secret, the miserable little secret which had turned 
her into a shopgirl, all for such a wretched thing 
as a dot 

Certainly The Desmond was very grave at first 
—the colour mounted to his cheeks and he clenched 
one of his great strong hands; but when Margot 
went on to describe mon grandpere’s death, and then. 


IT IS JOYFUL TO BEHOLD THEE^ MY PUSHKEEN. 345 

the arrangement which had been finally decided on 
after the funeral, by which Margot gave up her dot, 
returning it absolutely to la belle grand’mere and 
only keeping the old Chateau for herself—^which she 
could not give away, for she inherited it from her 
father and her grandfather—^then the old man 
changed his attitude. 

He burst into a loud guffaw. He rose to his im¬ 
mense height and folded the pushkeen in his arms, 
and cried: 

Hip, hip, hurrah! Hip, hip, hurrah! Old Ire¬ 
land forever! The Desmonds forever! Their pluck, 
their spirit to the world’s end! ” 

Madam, hearing a loud noise, came hastily in, 
and The Desmond told her to calm herself and to 
look upon the pushkeen as a gem of the purest 
water. 

She has been telling me things that set me up,” 
was his remark; they set me up fine, but they are 
to go no further. Quit any curious ways, my 
woman; get my pushkeen her supper. Old Ireland 
forever! Hip, hip, hurrah! Hip, hip, hurrah! ” 

So little Margot sat on her grandfather’s knee 
and ate the excellent food provided for her by dear, 
sweet, dainty little Madam, and then, being really 
very tired, she dropped asleep, with her head lean- 


346 IT IS JOYFUL TO BEHOLD THEE^ MY PUSHKEEH. 

ing on The Desmond^s breast, and her dark hair 
pressed against his white beard. 

“ Eh, but she’s the wonder,” said The Desmond; 

and I won’t have her woke, that I won’t, if she 
lies here all rtight long. She’s mine forever and 
ever now. Thank the Lord God Almighty and His 
blessed Son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit and 
the angels and the archangels and all the hosts of 
heaven, for their mercies! I’ve got her and she’s 
mine! My pushkeen, my mavoumeen, my blessed 
brave little lamb. I tell you, Mary, she’s a heroine. 
She’s better than the best—^what more can an old 
man say ? ” 

Margot did awake in time to go up to her own 
snug little bedroom, to slip into her own cosy bed, 
and to sleep the sound sleep of the weary. But be¬ 
fore he went to bed himself that night. The Des¬ 
mond had a talk with Fergus. 

We’ve got her back, Fergus boy,” he said. 

She’s ours now forever.” 

Yes, that’s true enough, forever.” 

She has let out something to me,” said The 
Desmond, which I can’t repeat and won’t for the 
life of me.” 

Don’t then, father,” said Fergus. 

But she’s a heroine,” said The Desmond. 


IT IS JOYFUL TO BEHOLD THEE^ MY PUSHKEEN. 347 

I always reckoned she was bom that way,” said 
Pergus. 

I’m not going to tell you her bit of a secret, my 
man.” 

I say, father, I’m not wanting to hear it.” 

But you and me, Fergus, we must provide for 
her. We must settle a hit of a dower on her.” 

I’m thinking that way myself,” said Fergus. 

We’ll talk it over to-morrow,” said The Des¬ 
mond. 

We will, father,” said Fergus. We’ll do 
something fine for the pushkeen; she’s worth it.” 

Worth it! ” cried The Desmond. There never 
was her like before in the world. Good-night, Fer¬ 
gus. You are my heir, remember, and you’ll he The 
Desmond after me. But listen here and now—old 
men die off quick sometimes, and if anything hap¬ 
pens to me she’s your charge.” 

Of course, father; can you doubt it ? ” 

That’s all right. I’m going to bed,” said The 
Desmond. He slowly left the room. There was a 
great rejoicing in his heart; he saw real, true good¬ 
ness when it was brought before him. The little 
pushkeen should not suffer for her confidence in 
him. He had loved her before; now his love filled 
his heart to the very brim. 

Fergus sat for some time by the turf fire in his 


348 IT IS JOYFUL TO BEHOLD THEE^ MY PUSHKEEN. 

father’s sitting-room and laughed quietly and softly 
to himself at the way the little pushkeen had man¬ 
aged The Desmond, who imagined he was the only 
one of all the family of Desmonds who knew the 
true story of the etahlissemerd at Arles. 

I never saw the old fellow so took up with 
anything,” thought Fergus to himself. The girls 
and Bruce and Malachi must never know, and of 
course I’ll pretend never to know. It’s all right— 
better than right—brave little pushkeen.” 



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CHAPTER XXIIL 


THE GLOKIOTJS SOFTNESS OF lEELAND. 

Little Margot soon settled down into the life 
she loved best Her object was to please her dear 
granddad. She was fond of her uncles and her old- 
young aunts and of dear, stately little Madam, hut 
there was no one in all the world like The Desmond 
himself. 

In her sweet presence he became a sort of child 
again. He went out, holding her little brown hand, 
and although it was still too early in the year to 
gather many flowers, such as grew in profusion in 
the south of France, they did find wonderful mosses, 
and the first, sweet, daring crocuses, and snowdrops 
and even primroses. 

Margot used to pick them and bring them into 
granddad’s room and arrange them with her ex¬ 
quisite taste for his comfort and pleasure. Hitherto 
he had called flowers more or less rubbish, but now 
this human flower had taught him to love all the 
flowers and green things of the fields. The mosses, 
fructifying in their full perfection, delighted the 
349 


350 THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 

old man as much as the child. He polished up an 
ancient microscope, and they examined these treas¬ 
ures of nature together side by side. They did not 
ivant to talk about anything else while the beautiful 
mosses were in their bloom. The Desmond even 
went to the expense of getting high glass globes to 
cover the mosses, which caused them to grow up 
tall and strong, and the two—the old and the young 
child—felt the perfection of joy as they watched 
them. 

Oh, granddad, you are so funny,” said little 
Margot. 

Granddad replied by Hip, hip, hurrah 1 Erin 
go hragh;^ the pushkeen forever.” 

Her old-young aunts were much entertained by 
Margot’s devotion to the old man. They themselves 
considered it childish. They began to consider The 
Desmond in his dotage, whereas, in reality, he had 
never been so alive and so amusing. A little child 
was leading him, and surely there could be no safer 
guide to the Kingdom of Heaven. 

But happy days, even the happiest, come to an 
end. The season of the fructification of the moss 
was over, and Margot now was fully engaged in 
filling granddad’s room with cowslips and bluebells, 
and with beautiful, large primroses in quantities. 

* Means the Irish of Ireland forever. 


THE GLOEIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 351 

One morning she felt nnusuallj wakeful and un¬ 
usually happy. She had received quite a cheerful 
letter from la belle grand’mere the night before. 
The etahlissement was flourishing, and Madame 
could never forget her little Margot. The child was 
tired of staying in bed. The time was now the mid¬ 
dle of March, but in this soft air of the county of 
Kerry harsh winds were little known, and as to 
rain, what did a drop of rain matter?—nobody 
thought of rain in the county of Kerry. A flne, 
soft morning,’’ they said one to the other. 

A beautiful, soft morning entirely,” they ex¬ 
claimed, when the rain poured in sheets and tor¬ 
rents. 

Margot watched it from her window and felt a 
sudden frantic desire to go out into this glorious 
softness. It would not do for granddad, dear grand¬ 
dad, but he should have his primroses and cowslips 
all the same. 

She put on a little old shabby frock and, stepping 
softly, let herself out into the streaming, pouring 
rain. She had a tiny mackintosh, which she 
slipped over her shabby frock. She wanted the 
rain and the beautiful softness to wet her delicate, 
jet-black hair, and cause it to curl up tighter than 
ever. She wore old goloshes a little too big for her^ 
on her feet. 


562 THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 

She knew a certain spot, beyond the grounds of 
the old estate, where primroses and cowslips were 
growing. She had seen them the day before with 
her clear black eyes, but the place was too far off 
for granddad to walk to. She made for it now, 
however, her little basket on her arm. After a 
time, she found herself under the dripping trees. 

How glorious was the wet softness of Ireland! 
Was there ever such a place as Erin? Surely, 
surely, never, never! And then she stooped dovm 
and began carefully to pick her primroses and cow¬ 
slips, laying them dripping wet as they were, with 
delicate care into her little basket. 

In the midst of her task she was arrested by the 
sound of voices. Who in the world could be out 
and near this spot of all spots, early in the morn¬ 
ing? She gave a little sigh and stood upright, lean¬ 
ing against a fir tree. Then she saw a sight which 
caused her small heart to beat. 

Her young-old Aunt Horah was walking by, 
leaning confidentially on the arm of Mr. Flannigan. 
They were evidently too much absorbed with each 
other to take the least notice of the child. Margot 
earnestly hoped they would not stop—she had no 
desire to act as an eavesdropper, and yet she could 
not get away without being seen. 

I’m a bit tired, me honey,” said old-young Aunt 


THE GLOKIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 353 

ilTorah. Let me lean on your shoulder, avick. 
There, that’s better. Shall we sit a while ? I’m not 
one for minding the damp, being brought up in it^ 
so to speak.” 

^^Eh, but listen, mavoumeen,” said the almost 
husky voice of Flannigan, ye might catch the bit¬ 
ter cowld, me pretty pet, and then where in the 
wide world would your Samuel be ? ” 

Why, you’d be where you always were,” replied 
young-old Aunt ITorah. 

“Ah, but no! I’d be in the cowld grave,” said 
Samuel Flannigan. “ Do ye think I could live an¬ 
other minute without ye, l^orah, me bit thing?” 

This was too much for little Margot. She would 
not be an eavesdropper. She must explain. She 
came out from under the shelter of the fir tree, and 
flinging the cowslips and the primroses into the lap 
of old-young Aunt Norah,' she exclaimed: 

“ I’m here and I know. It’s lovely to listen, but 
I mustn’t listen. I’ll leave you to yourselves. I 
didn’t think you two would take up silly at your 
age, but I forgot you were young-old, and that sort 
does anything.” 

The two stared at her with their mouths open, 
and manifest consternation in their faces. 

“ Is it tellin’, ye are going to be ? ” said young- 
old Aunt iMorah. 


364 THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 

To be sure not—IVe nothing to tell. If I’d 
stayed a bit longer I might have heard more. 
Phinias did say to me once that you and himself 
there, were familiar-like; but I didn’t know what it 
meant, and I don’t know what it means now, only 
that he calls you ^ me honey,’ and you stick to him 
in the dripping, pouring rain. Well, if you like it 
I don’t care; I’m going home.’' 

^^ISTo; you are not,” said old-young Aunt ITorah. 

You’ve heard too much, and you shall hear the 
rest. We are going to be married, me and this gen¬ 
tleman.” 

Married ? ” cried little Margot. Whatever is 
that?” 

My child, it is the gift of heaven,” said Samuel 
Tlannigan. 

Margot raised her black eyes to the dripping 
skies. 

It seems to come down in a good pour,” she 
said. Still, I don’t understand.” 

You know about Madam and your granddad,” 
cried young-old Aunt IhTorah. 

To be sure; am I wanting in sense entirely ? ” 

Well, they’re married, the same as we’ll be very 
soon, very soon.” 

Oh, deary me! ” cried little Margot. That 
does sound lovely. Only you know, Mr. Samuel Plan- 


THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 355 

nigan, you haven’t got the beautiful face of my 
granddad, so perhaps your little children won’t he 
quite as lovely. I wonder how many you’ll have. 
My old nurse at Uncle Jacko’s said that when I 
cracked my fingers, every crack meant a wee babe. 
Shall I crack them now for you two ? ” 

Oh, child, you are too awful,” cried Aunt 
ISTorah, who found herself blushing in the most un¬ 
comfortable way. 

But Margot took no notice of the blush, nor did 
she observe that the Bev. Samuel Flannigan had 
moved a trifie out of hearing. Margot gravely 
cracked her fingers. After a time she looked sol¬ 
emnly at young-old Aunt Borah and said: 

You’ll have ten. They’ll come out of the hearts 
of cabbages, and I’ll order them for you one at a 
time, if you like; I’ll go straight home now and 
begin to make the baby clothes.” 

Margot, you are the most awful pushkeen in 
the wide world,” said Aunt Borah. You have 
made himself feel so ashamed that he can’t look me 
in the face.” 

All because of the dear little babies,” said Mar¬ 
got. I am more than surprised.” 

Listen,” exclaimed Borah, no young girl ever 
talks on those subjects before marriage.” 


SbQ THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 

Don’t she ? But why ? I thought it was so in¬ 
teresting.” 

It isn’t, pushkeen; it isn’t done.” 

“ Have you told granddad yet that you are going 
to marry Mr. Flannigan ? ” inquired Margot. 

Ho; we don’t want him to know yet. It would 
spoil the fun; and dear Samuel is so sensitive.” 

I suppose so; I never thought it before, but if 
he’s frightened of a wee thing like a babe, he must 
be. But, young-old Aunt Horah, you ought to tell 
granddad.” 

I will, in good time, child; only it must be in 
my own way and in my own time. Samuel is the 
most blessed and holy man in the whole world.” 

Well, I don’t think he’s quite that; for if he were 
he wouldn’t play games like puss~in-the-corner and 
round the mulberry tree and blind-mans buff; and 
then. Aunt Horah, you cant call him handsome. 
His nose, it cocks right up, and there’s very little of 
it; and his mouth is so wide; and he has teeny eyes 
and his head is getting bald. Do you want to marry 
a man with a bald head, Aunt Horah ? I’ll tell you 
how I found it out. I saw you and him and Aunt 
Bridget talking and laughing and giggling the other 
day, and I thought it wasn’t to say—well! what old- 
youngs did.” 


THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 357 

You little prude/’ said Aunt I7orah in an angry 
voice. 

Well, but it wasn't, old-young Aunt jN’orah.” 

You are not to call me ^ old-young ’; I won’t 
have it.” 

Well, old, then.” 

I’m not old.” 

Y^hatever am I to call you, for you are not 
young ? ” 

Bless the child; she’ll break me to bits,” said 
Aunt ISTorah. Pushkeen, you don’t know what 
you are talkin’ of.” 

I do; I know quite well. You sent me to your 
bedroom the other day and I saw a very long plait 
of hair that wasn’t yours lying on the dressing 
table. If you were young the hair would sprout 
like bulbs out of your head, and on the day that I 
watched you and Aunt Bride and Mr. Flannigan 
playing in the garden, I thought I’d find out about 
him, so I got Joe, the garden boy, to fetch me a 
ladder, and he did so, and I climbed up and sat in 
the bough of a tree, and Samuel’s hair was all bald 
on the top, so you are neither of you young, and you 
-oughtn’t to pretend; it is wrong.” 

Oh, you are a dreadful, dreadful pushkeen,” 
■said Aunt Horah. But I’ll forgive you all your 
wild ways and tell you my little beautiful secrets if 


358 THE GLOEIOUS SOFTISTESS OF IRELAND. 

you promise not to say a word of this—this meet¬ 
ing, to my father, nor my sisters, nor my hrothers.” 

Margot was rather beguiled by the thought of be¬ 
ing Aunt ISTorah’s confidante. 

Idl keep your secret as safe—as safe can he for 
one weeJc/' she said. You can tell himself there’ll 
he only ten, and that I my very self will pick them 
out of the choicest cabbages. I^ow, good-bye. I’d love 
to see you hugging each other, and I’m sorry they 
won’t he pretty, hut, you see, you aren’t, and he 
isn’t, and the cabbages are very 'particular whom 
they send the wee babies to. Mell, I must he ofi.” 

Little Margot rushed hack to the house. She felt 
rather cold and chill. Aunt Yorah’s news by no 
means pleased her. She had never liked Mr. Elan- 
nigan, and she disliked him more than ever now. 
Still, she had promised to keep Aunt Horah’s secret 
for a week. It was an awful burden on her little 
mind; still, she must keep her word. 

The week went by, and after the first day, Margot 
began to enjoy herself. It was so very interesting 
to watch Mr. Flannigan blush. She had only to 
stare first at him, then at Aunt LTorah, and behold, 
his entire face was crimson. She made little ex¬ 
periments with his blushes, and they succeeded to 
such an extent that the poor man was in agony. 


THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 359 


At last Aunt ITorali had to take her away and speak 
to her. 

Do you know, pushkeen,” she said, that you 
are making my Samuel very miserable ? ” 

I ? ” said Margot. I don’t know what you 
mean.” 

Yes, hut you are. You keep looking at him.” 

I can’t help it; a cat may look at a king. 
Auntie E'er ah.” 

Yes; but a little girl ought not to make a very 
reverend and pious and good clergyman uncomfort¬ 
able.” 

I never before thought he was reverend and 
pious,” said Margot. 

Well, he is; he’s a clergyman of the Church of 
Ireland.” 

^^Do they all play puss-in-the-comer ?inquired 
Margot. 

Oh, you silly, silly child. ISTow I’m going to 
show you something. It’s a great secret. You must 
keep it tight in your heart.” 

I will, auntie. The week will be up to-morrow, 
remember, and I think I can bear an extra secret 
until then.” 

Aunt Yorah first of all walked to the door, which 
she locked. She then unlocked a certain drawer in 
her chest of drawers and produced a little box with 


360 THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 

a jeweller’s name on it. She opened it and showed 
Margot a small, very poor-looking ring. It was with¬ 
out precious stones and had a twisted knot in the 
middle. 

It’s pretty,” said Margot, dubiously. She knew 
good rings, having seen so many at Arles. 

Pretty! you little cat; it’s lovely.” 

What does the twist mean ? ” asked Margot. 

That is a true lover’s knot. This is my engage¬ 
ment ring. Dear Samuel went to Cork yesterday 
and bought it for me. Oh, Margot, when we are 
really married we’ll live in a wee house of our own * 
and you shall come and see us, if you’ll only prom¬ 
ise not to talk about babies.” 

Indeed, truly I won’t,” said Margot. I 
thought you’d like to have them, but you evidently 
don’t. Will your house be very nice. Auntie 
Norah?” 

It will be elegant, child. Hot a tumble-down 
place like this.” 

There never wds a place so perfect as Desmonds- 
town,” said Margot. 

Our little house won’t be so big, but it will be 
sweet and fresh and pure,” said Auntie Horah. I 
can’t bear gawds of any sort.” 

Can’t you, auntie ? I should have thought you 
loved them.” 


THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 361 

^‘You don’t know me a bit, Margot I always 
felt you didn’t.” 

Margot smiled faintly and was silent. After a 
very long pause she said slowly: 

“ Thank you very much for showing me the ring; 
and I hope you’ll keep your word about telling 
granddad to-morrow.” 

We’re going to tell Uncle Fergus,” said ISTorah. 

He’ll break the news to your grandfather.” 

Oh, won’t you tell him yourself—^yourselves, I 
mean? It sounds so—so-” 

So what ? ” exclaimed Horah. 

Sort of cowardly,” said Margot. 

You have never seen my father in a passion, 
pushkeen. He’ll be angry at a Desmond marrying 
a Flannigan, and he’ll let his anger out and storm 
and rave, and poor Sam won’t be able to bear it. It 
is best that Fergus should get the brunt of it.” 

“ Are you quite—quite sure that is what you mean 
to do ? ” asked Margot after a long pause. 

Well, perhaps-” 

As you are both so finicky I’d best do it for you. 
I’ll talk to Uncle Fergus and get him to tell grand¬ 
dad. I’m going to have a private talk with Uncle 
Fergus to-night. Shall I tell him about you and 
the holy, saintly Mr. Samuel to-night. Aunt Horah ? ” 




362 THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 

Well, to be sure, child, you have a heart and a 
half.” 

'Noj IVe one heart, but it’s big. It can hold 
you two and your little ring and your 'mendous big 
secret.” 

I think you are a nice little girl,” said Horah. 

Well, tell him, but whatever you do, get him not 
to speak to my father till the morning.” 

Margot promised to obey. Just before dinner that 
evening she asked Uncle Fergus to walk up and down 
the big picture-gallery with her. All the best pic¬ 
tures had been sold long ago, but still there was one 
very precious Komney left, also a couple of Gains¬ 
boroughs, not at that great master’s best, and several 
by unknown artists. 

Little Margot was very fond of creeping up to the 
picture-gallery and looking at the Romney. It rep¬ 
resented a little dark-eyed girl exactly like herself. 
She did not know the likeness, but everyone else re¬ 
marked it, and the people of the neighbourhood in¬ 
variably said: 

Oh, do—do look at the little Romney,” when 
Margot and her grandfather passed by. 

iN'ow she stood exactly under the picture, her 
dark eyes raised to the dark eyes of the little girl, 
who was holding an enormous bunch of cowslips in 
her hands. With all her likeness to Margot she had 


THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 363 

not the fire of Margot in her small face. Still, 
Margot loved her because she was her very own— 
her own ancestress, who had been born a Desmond 
at Desmondstown, and had died before she was old 
enough to marry. So she is always a Desmond,’’ 
said Margot, speaking, as was her custom, aloud. 

And that in itself is beautiful. I’ll run to her 
first when I get to Heaven—even before I see dear 
grandpere. I do love her. Always a Desmond—a 
Desmond up in Heaven. She must be wonderfully 
happy. Oh, is that you. Uncle Fergus ? ” 

Uncle Fergus joined the child. He put his arm 
round her slim little waist, and they both stood 
together and looked up at the picture. 

Do you love the Homney picture, pushkeen ? ” 
he asked. 

Oh, Uncle Fergus, I just adore it. She must 
be so happy, never to have changed her beautiful 
name.” 

She was your great-great-great-aunt,” said Uncle 
Fergus. Her name was Kathleen Desmond, and 
your own mother was called after her. She died a 
year after that picture was taken. It is the most 
valuable thing we possess. If sold it would fetch 
thousands of pounds, but I am going to ask my fa¬ 
ther to give it to you for your very own, Margot.” 
“ Oh, oh, are you. Uncle Fergus? But I couldn’t 


564 THJ3 GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 


sell her, you know. If I felt she was my own, I’d 
keep her forever and ever and ever. She is part of 
me now, I love her so much.” 

I don’t want you to sell her, little one,” said 
Pergus; nor would The Desmond hear of it. She 
would not be yours as long as The Desmond lives. 
Then, if he consents, we will settle her on you, as 
well as the dower.” 

I^ot a dot; I hope not a dot” said little Margot. 

ISTo, I said a dower” 

Well, that’s all right. How I shall pet you and 
love you, Great-great-great-Aunt Kathleen Des¬ 
mond; even up in heaven, where you are now. I’ll 
see your face in the sky, on starlight nights, looking 
down at me and smiling at me.” 

“ Do you know, Margot, why I want to give you 
that picture ? ” 

Ko, Uncle Fergus. You have a funny thought 
at the back of your head, hut I don’t know what it 
is.” 

Because you are like her, very like her.” 

Am I—am I truly ? Why she’s quite bee^uti- 
ful.” 

Well, never mind about that, child. You asked 
me to meet you here and I have come. Have you 
anything to say ? ” 

They are so frightened, poor things,” said Mar- 


THE GLOEIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 365 


got, suddenly restored to the present. They 
haven’t got my courage nor her courage nor your 
courage, so I thought that you and I had best help 
them.” 

Who on earth are you talking about, push- 
keen ? ” 

He blushes so dreadfully,” continued Margot. 

It’s quite awfully painful. I keep looking away 
from him now to ease his mind a hit. I suppose 
he thinks Auntie Horah very beautiful and she 
thinks him very holy.” 

Who on earth—^what do you mean, pushkeen ? ” 

Well, Uncle Fergus, they’ve settled it up and 
you can’t stop it, ’cause Aunt Horah says they are 
both of age. I’m certain sure they are, for I climbed 
up a ladder to see the bald spot on his head. It’s 
Mr. Flannigan and Aunt Horah, and they are going 
to be married at once, almost immejity and you have 
got to tell The Desmond. She says she is not old- 
young, hut that she’s young. I know quite well that 
she’s only old-young, hut I don’t talk of it. She’s 
very happy, though, for she loves him. It seems 
a pity that God made him ugly, for she’s not beau¬ 
tiful, and I don’t quite like her taste. She’s going 
to have a teeny house, and he has bought her a little 
engaged-up ring. It’s a very poor sort of ring, 
really, truly, but oh, she is proud of it. You will 


366 THE GEOEIOUS SOFTNESS OF IKEEAND. 

be kind to ber, won’t yon, Uncle Fergus! Poor 
Aunt Uorah, sbe thinks it so more than lovely, go¬ 
ing to be married. I was frightened at first, think¬ 
ing of their wee babies; but they don’t seem to 
want to have babies.” 

Uncle Fergus burst into a sudden laugh, sat down 
on a tattered old seat, and took Margot into his 
arms. 

You little blessed thing,” he said. Don’t 
whisper to anyone, Margot asthore; keep it tight 
within ye. Your Aunt Uorah is fifty.” 

What’s fifty ? ” asked the pushkeen. 

^^Why, half a century, of course. She’s the eld¬ 
est of us all, except your Aunt Priscilla. Well, I’ll 
do my best with The Desmond, but he’ll be rare and 
angry, I can tell you. His pride of birth is his 
greatest pride of all, and that chap Flannigan, why 
he is-” 

He’s a clergyman of the Church of Ireland,” 
said Margot solemnly. 

My father will think nothing of that. He 
knows only too well that he’s the grandson of a 
labourer on the Desmond estate, and though he’s 
old, he’s ten years younger than your aunt; but keep 
it dark, pushkeen. I know you never let out secrets. 
I’ll do my best for them for your sake, my pretty 



THE GLORIOUS SOFTNESS OF IRELAND. 367 

sweet. But what a pair of fools they are, to be 
sure.” 

Oh, Uncle Fergus, don’t talk like that. If we 
can make, them joyful, let’s try. Let’s try very 
hard.” 

Blessings on ye, pushkeen. I’ll do my best for 
your sake. IsTow I think we must tidy up for sup¬ 
per.” 


CHAPTEE XXIY. 


A POUND A DAY-A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 

XoTWITHSTANDING all her confident dreams and 
her bold, resolute spirit, little Margot did not find 
the next day at Desmondstown either peaceful or 
happy. Fergus, true to his word, told his father of 
Xorah’s engagement. The old man stormed and 
raved. He sent for Xorah, who refused to go to 
him. His rage grew yet hotter. He said that if she 
did not appear at once he would have her locked up; 
that no child of his should disgrace herself by mar¬ 
rying a Elannigan. 

Samuel Elannigan was forbidden the house. He 
was told that his case was hopeless. Aunt Xorah, 
in terror, did appear and was assured by her father 
that she was nothing but a blessed bit of a fool and 
mighty old at that, and that she must immediately 
promise him that she would never speak to that low- 
down fellow, Samuel Elannigan, again. 

Xorah cried, sobbed, even screamed, and was 
finally locked up in her room by The Desmond him¬ 
self. Then little Margot came in and tried to smooth 
368 


A POUND A DAY-^A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 36^ 

matters and comfort the distracted old man. He 
looked at her bonny face; at her glowing, rosy 
cheeks; at her wonderful, soft, black eyes; at her 
thick, curling, black hair; and held out his arms to 
her. She crept into his embrace and sat there very 
quiet, without speaking. Margot was singularly 
wise for her age, and she knew that the time to 
speak had not come yet. 

Presently, however, as the old man was feeling 
the comfort of her presence, he was startled by one 
great tear splashing on his hand. 

“ Why, my pushkeen, alanna,” he said. I 
thought for sure that the Desmonds never cried— 
those that are true Desmonds, I mean.” 

It was only one tear, granddad,” said little 
Margot. I don’t like anybody to be unhappy.” 

Eh, now, to be sure, nor do I,” said The Des¬ 
mond. 

But there’s Aunt Horah, granddad. She is 
very mis’rable; she is fond of Samuel.” 

Don’t ye dare,” said the old man. His whole 
manner changed; he pushed her off his knee. She 
looked at him without reproach, but with intense 
sadness, and then slowly, very slowly left the room. 

He was so wretched after she had gone that he 
felt inclined to call her back, and to tell her that all 
the foolish Horah Desmonds in the wide world and 


370 A POUN^D A DAY-^A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 

all the ridiculous, low-born Samuel Elannigans 
might marry, if only she would stay with him and 
comfort him. 

Madam came in presently and found him alone. 
The one tear that Margot had shed had dried on his 
homy old hand, hut he kept on looking at the hand. 
He did not attempt to wipe that tear—that pearl 
of all price—away. It had dried itself. He thought 
his hand a sort of sacred thing because it held one 
tear from the little pushkeen. 

What ails your hand, Fergus ? ” asked Mary, 
his wife. 

Oh, nothing,” he replied. Why shouldn’t I 
have a hand in all conscience, and why shouldn’t I 
look at it ? Where on earth is the pushkeen ? ” 

Why, didn’t you know ? ” said Madam. 

^^Ho; what should I know? For goodness’ sake, 
woman, speak out! ” 

Well, I’m thinking you won’t see her for a hit,” 
said Madam; hut she’ll come hack hy-and-hye— 
very soon, most like.” 

As a matter of fact Margot had taken up the cause 
of Aunt Horah and Mr. Flannigan; and for her to 
take up any cause meant far more than the people 
who benefited by her counsel and advice had any 
idea of. How, having left her grandfather, she 
tried to find Uncle Fergus; hut he was nowhere in 


A POUND A DAY-^A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 371 

the house. Then she went up to Aunt ^Rorah’s 
room. She knocked at the door. She heard sobbing 
and moaning within. 

There were sounds like Ohone! ohone! Oh, dear 
me, Oh, dear me! Oh, it’s me heart that’s torn to 
tatters! ” 

Margot could not get Aunt i7orah to listen to 
her; so she left her. She went to her own little 
room, and opening a certain drawer took out her 
purse. It had been well stored by la belle grand’- 
mere. There were a great many gold pieces in it. 
Margot did not stop to think how many. The sun 
was shining to-day. She put on a neat little dark- 
blue serge frock and her pretty crimson cap, and 
went straight to the house where Samuel Flannigan 
lived. It was a very small house and very shabby. 
It was close to the church; and the front door stood 
open. Margot entered. She went down the narrow 
hall and into the tiny front sitting-room, where the 
blinds were drawn down arid where Samuel Flanni- 
gan was seated, his face buried in his hands, his 
great ungainly shoulders shaken with sobs. 

Margot went up and touched him somewhat deli¬ 
cately. 

I don’t want you. Miss Margot,” he said. It’s 
your sort that does the mischief; but for you I 
wouldn’t have lost my little girl.” 


372 A POUND A DAY-^A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 

Mr. Flannigan, IVe done no mischief, except 
that I made you blush. I’m sorry I did that—I 
am truly. I want to tell you that you need never 
blush any more, and you’ll get your little wee young 
girlie if only you have patience and behave like a 
man. Fve taken the matter up, Mr. Flannigan, and 
I mean to succeed. Gk)od-bye, now, and cheer up. 
Things will come right soon, but not quite imme¬ 
diately. Trust me, Mr. Flannigan, and forgive me 
for making you blush such an awful ugly red.” 

Flannigan looked vacantly at the pretty child. 
Somehow a gleam of hope did stir in his heart. 
That child was very uncommon and remarkable. He 
had never, never seen her like before. He won¬ 
dered whether he could manage to run away with 
Horah. But ten minutes after Margot had de¬ 
parted, his little flicker of courage had left him, and 
he sat down a weary, desolate man, who felt very 
old and good-for-nothing. 

He was really fond of Horah, and he did not see 
why he should be abused because his grandfather 
was a labourer on the Desmondstown estates. 

Meanwhile Margot, having quite made up her 
mind, went quickly in the direction of Phinias Ma¬ 
loney’s bit of a houseen. She kissed the children 
who were basking in the sun and picking flowers to 
throw them away again. 


A POUND A DAY-A PICTUKE AND A WEDDING. 373 

She snatched up the baby and covered his small 
face with her kisses. Then she went into the little 
kitchen to Annie Maloney. 

Why, whatever,” exclaimed Annie; my blessed 
missie, what do you want ? ” 

Where’s Phinias ? ” asked little Margot. 

He’s over heyont; ye can see him if ye look. 
He’s planting cabbages for the summer.” 

Annie,” said Margot, are you great enough to 
be good in a very great cause ? ” 

“ Well, now, whatever does the bit thing mean? ” 
said Annie. 

I want Phinias. Will you give him to me ? ” 

Well, now, I’d do most things for ye, alanna, but 
himself !—I couldn’t part with himself. ’Tain’t 
likely now, is it, missie, and he the father of the 
childer ? ” 

I only want him for about two or three days at 
the most,” said Margot; and I’ll pay him well,” 
she added. A pound for every day he’s away 
from you.” 

To be sure now, that’s powerful big pay,” ex¬ 
claimed Mrs. Maloney. We could buy another 
piggeen, and put by for the rint, and tidy up the 
place a bit.” 

So you can,” said Margot. We’d best make it 
three days.” 


374 A POUND A DAY-A PICTUEE AND A WEDDING. 

To be sure, mj blessed mavourneen—^to be sar- 
tin sure.” 

Well, Pm going to speak to him,” said Margot. 

You’re a very noble woman, Annie. He’ll be back 
with you in three days and he’ll have three pounds 
to put into your hand. How then, don’t tell any¬ 
body in the world where we have gone.” 

Is it a sacret ? ” exclaimed Annie. Lor’ love 
us, I dote on a sacret.” 

I’ll go and see him at once,” said Margot. I 
trust you, Annie, more than anyone else in all the 
world; I do indeed.” 

Lor’ love ye, my pretty,” said Annie. 

Margot scampered across the field. Presently she 
reached himself ” as he was planting the young 
spring cabbages. 

Phinias,” said Margot, vou are just a dar¬ 
ling.” 

Be I ? ” said Phinias. “ You do use pretty 
words, missie, asthore.” 

It’s what I feel, Phinias. How I’ve spoken to 
Annie and Annie is satisfied, and I’ll pay all your 
expenses and my expenses, too. I can’t run away 
alone, because I’m too small; but Phinias, I’m going 
to run away.” 

Lor’ bless us and save us,” cried Phinias, and 
you the idol of The Desmond’s dear old heart.” 


A POUND A DAY-A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 375 

Sometimes we must be parted from the people 
we love,” said Margot. Get the cart ready as fast 
as you can, Pbinias, and put on your best things 
and come with me. You must take me straight, 
right away, this blessed minit, to dear Uncle Jacko. 
As soon as ever I get there you can go home again. 
And when you get home you’ll carry a letter with, 
you which I’ll have written, and you’ll put it your¬ 
self into the hands of The Desmond. That’s all; 
and you’ll get three pounds besides your food and 
your travelling. Come along this blessed minute, 
Phinias; there isn’t a moment to spare.” 

Phinias stared out of his truly Irish eyes; his 
wide mouth grinned a trifle. He looked a little 
sheepish, a little glad, vastly surprised; but in the 
end Margot got her way. She was seated beside 
Phinias in the queer little cart. 

They went by a road they did not usually go, and 
arrived at a railway station which they did not gen¬ 
erally get to, and there they took train for Eosslare. 

On the following day, quite late in the evening, 
Margot’s little brown face peeped round the shabby 
door of the study, where Uncle Jacko was prepar¬ 
ing his Sunday sermon 

Margot gave a cry of ]oy and flung herself into 
his arms. 


376 A POUND A DAY-A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 

Why, then, by the powers! isn’t this too joyful 
altogether ? ” exclaimed Uncle Jacko. 

Yes,” said Margot, Phinias brought me. 
You’ll keep him for to-night, and he’ll go back to¬ 
morrow. Uncle Jacko, is Aunt Priscilla about % ” 
Uo, thank the Lord. She’s gone missioning to 
Manchester.” 

I don’t know what that is,” said little Margot 
It’s good work, very good work. She’s a good 
woman,” said Uncle Jacko. 

Then we’ll be alone ? ” 

We will so, my bonny bird.” 

Then everything is going to come beautifully 
right,” said Margot. I think God is almost too 
good. Uncle Jacko. Oh, I do love Him so tremen¬ 
dously.” 

That evening the little girl told Uncle Jacko the 
entire story of Aunt Horah and Mr. Plannigan, of 
her grandfather’s unaccountable rage and of her 
own determination that Aunt Uorah and Mr. Plan¬ 
nigan should be happy. 

^^He—^granddad—can’t live without me, Uncle 
Jacko, so you see I ran away. I’m going to send 
him back a letter to-morrow morning by Phinias 
Maloney. The very moment he says ^ yes ’ about 
Aunty you’ll take me back to him, won’t you. Uncle 
Jacko ? ” 


A POUND A DAY-A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 37T 

I will, my sweet child, although the parting 
with you will be a sort of tearing open of an old 
wound.” 

Oh, Uncle Jacko, he won’t give way for a bit. 
We’ll have some days to play—to be just a little 
hoy and just a little girl together.” 

If Uncle Jacko was delighted to see Margot, old 
Hannah’s raptures were also beyond words. 

Thank the Lord the missus is away mission¬ 
ing,” she said, and then she hugged and kissed, and 
kissed and. hugged Margot, and got her old tiny 
room warm and snug for her, and treated those two 
children, as she spoke of her master and Miss Mar¬ 
got, to the very best that the house could afford. 

Before she went to bed that night, however, Mar¬ 
got wrote a letter to granddad. It ran as follows: 

Haelingest and Best:— 

I couldn’t live even with you at Desmondstown 
unless we were happy together. I couldn’t bear to 
see your dear face all puckered up with sorrow, and 
with anger, which the beautiful God hates; so I have 
come away for a bit to Uncle Jacko; hut when you 
feel that you can give your bit girleen to poor 
Sammy, why then—then I’ll fly back to you, for 
you’ll he the noblest old man in the world—nobler 
than your pride; and I’ll never leave you again, 
never, never. This is to say that I’m here and I’m 
safe, and my heart is full to the brim with love for 


378 A POUND A DAY-A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 

you; so send for me very quick indeed, my own 
granddad. 

P.S. Don’t let your wee girlie get too old from 
sobbing. You and I, we both know that it isn’t the 
way of the Desmonds. Be as quick as you can in 
settling the matter up. 

Forever and forever, 

Your PUSHKEEN. 

This letter was read by a broken-down old man 
who, for three days, had given up Margot as lost;, 
whose heart was so completely broken with regard 
to her, that he did not give either I^orah or Flanni* 
gan a thought. 

When the old man read Margot’s letter he gave 
vent to a sort of yell of delight. 

Why, bless the bit thing,” he cried. “ Madam, 
Madam, Fergus, Fergus, she’s safe with that good 
fellow, Mansfield. Wire to her to come home. Fer¬ 
gus, go off at once and send a wire. ITorah may go 
her own way. She’s nothing to me compared to my 
Margot—my pushkeen—my blessing.” 

So the wire was sent, and as quickly as possible 
Uncle Jacko and little Margot returned to Des- 
mondstown. Margot flew into her grandfather’s 
arms. 

Is it right ? ” she said. May they marry ? ” 

They may marry every single week of the year- 


A POUND A DAY-A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 379 

from this time forward, for all I care/’ said The 
Desmond. 

Have you told them so ? ” asked Margot. 

Ho, and don’t want to.” 

Granddad, you must/' 

All right, my pushkeen.” 

Madam, darlin,’ bring Horah down to grand¬ 
dad this minute.” 

I’ll fetch her,” said Fergus. 

He went up to his sister’s room, and in a few min¬ 
utes she appeared, looking very cowed and shaken. 

It’s that blessed little Margot’s doings,” said 
Fergus. Ho one else would have brought him 
round. Loving my father as much as she does, she 
was determined to give him up unless he allowed you 
to be happy.” 

I don’t understand,” said Horah. 

Well, you needn’t, colleen. Come with me now 
and don’t keep the old man waiting.” 

Horah went. Margot was in her usual place on 
her grandfather’s knee. She would not allow him to 
rise. He just put out his great hand in the direction 
of Horah. 

Ye’re looking a bit white, colleen,” he said; 
and weak, too, with the weakness of the aged. I 
give in; you can take him. Why, there he is,” for 
Malachi had rushed round to the house of Flanni- 


.jSO a pound a day-^A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 

gaii and brought him straight back—a very red- 
cjed, feeble man, to meet his red-ejed, feeble bride. 

There, I’ve settled it,” said The Desmond. 

You can both go out and spoon. I’m busy with 
my granddaughter. I had never have given in but 
for her. She’s as cute as she’s sweet. Lor’ bless 
her, she’s the cutest thing on earth,” and then he 
hugged Margot close to his heart. 

The three Sundays were obliged to be gone through 
in order that the banns might be properly read, and 
Margot brought her wonderful taste to bear on the 
subject of the wardrobe of the bride. Knowing 
quite well that her grandfather would give in, she 
had wired to helle grand’mere from England, telling 
her what things she would require for the wedding. 

Accordingly a huge parcel arrived, containing 
muslins, silks, laces, hats, gloves, stockings, shoes. 
Was not Margot busy during that fortnight? Was 
not Bride busy helping? Did not Eileen show the 
taste she—Margot—had in a far greater degree ? 
The bride was the most indifferent of all, for did not 
Samuel come at all hours to her window and sing 
out to her: Korah me honey, Korah, asthoreand 
was not the entire place alive with the excitement 
of a wedding in the Desmond family ? 

It was Margot herself, however, who superin¬ 
tended the making of the bride’s dress. She hired a 


A POUND A D\Y-PICTUEE AND A WEDDING. 38l 

sewing-machine; and bought the softest cream satin, 
suitable for a bride of eighteen, and saw that it was 
properly cut and prepared for old-young Auntie 
Xorah. 

At last the wedding day arrived, and a great feast 
was to be held in the huge dining-room when the 
ceremony was at an end. ISTothing could take 
iSTorali’s fifty years from her, but Margot arranged 
her hair in a marvellous style, and put a bunch of 
white roses into her dress, and made her look as 
no one else could have made her look. 

To be sure, she passes the years wonderful,’’ 
said one old crone to another. 

But it was at the wedding breakfast that little 
Margot shone in all her glory. She was in very 
simple, pure white, and her cheeks were flushed a 
little deeper than usual, and her eyes shone with a 
softer and more beautiful light. By The Desmond’s 
desire there was a chair placed for Margot next to 
himself. He sat at the head of the hoard, but in such 
a position that he could not see the old bride and 
bridegroom. 

Margot,” he whispered, pushkeen asthorc, 
they’ll be making speeches to drown ye like, and 
they’ll be expecting me to take my turn. Will you 
do it for me, little Margot ? ” 


383 A POTJN-D A DAY-^A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 


I do it ? ’’ said Margot. What sort is a speech, 
granddad ? 

What comes into your head and what ye lets 
out. That’s a speech.” 

Oh, that’s easy enough,” said Margot. May 
I say that I’m speaking for you ? ” 

Ye may, pushkeen asthore.” 

So when the right moment arrived, a very, very 
tall old man, of immense breadth of stature as well, 
stood up, holding the hand of a lovely little dark 
girl. 

My granddad is tired,” began Margot, and he 
can’t speak what he thinks, so he has put his thoughts 
into me. There’s a bride and there’s a bridegroom 
sitting beyont. They were married in church this 
morning. They are both of them young, for their 
hearts are young, and they are mighty fond of each 
other entirely; and my granddad, he wishes me to 
say-” 

Whist, pushkeen,” came from the lips of the old 
man. But pushkeen could not be stopped at that 
moment. She was looking straight into the happy 
eyes of old-young Aunt ISTorah, and into the blissful 
face of old-young Uncle Samuel. 

I’m wishing you,” she said, me and my grand¬ 
father, long, long life and prosperity. I’m wishing 
that your happiness may continue and you may al- 



A POUND A DAY-A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 383 

ways, as long as you live, play pxLss-in-ihe-comer 
blind mans huff, I’m thinking it’s a very good way 
to begin to get married, by playing those games; 
and I recommend them to the rest of my uncles and 
aunts. I’ll look out for husbands for them if I can, 
and for wives for the boys if I can, but for me my¬ 
self I don’t mean to marry, being altogether too 
much occupied, having one so precious as my grand¬ 
dad to live with forever and forever. Amen.” 

Isn’t she exactly like the Romney ? ” said a 
quaint old lady who was one of the guests invited for 
the occasion. 

Yes, to be sure, only handsomer,” said her com¬ 
panion. 

She’s the sweetest, most uncommon child I ever 
saw,” said the first lady; and doesn’t the old man 
love her? He’s bound up in her, bless her little 
heart.” 

A few minutes later Horah went upstairs to 
change her bridal robes and put on the going-away 
dress which Margot had selected for her. She never 
felt so stylish in her life, nor so tearful, nor so 
happy. 

^^Why, Margot,” she said, turning round and 
looking at the child. It was you that did it all— 
all. There was a time when I hated you. But for 
you, I can plainly see now that I’d never have got 


384 A POUI^^D A DAY-A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 

my Sam. Oh, Margot, I am happy. And tell me, 
what does the Rev. John Mansfield think of the holy 
man ? ’’ 

He loves him; he caifit do more,’’ said Margot. 

And yon love him, don’t you, Margot ? ” 

For your sake I’ll begin to twist myself in that 
direction,” said Margot. How hurry, auntie, 
hurry, or you’ll miss your train.” 

A beautiful carriage had been provided. This had 
been secured out of the proceeds of a small cheque 
which la telle grand’mere had sent to Margot for the 
wedding; and the bride and bridegroom, when they 
went away, were not obliged to step into Phinias 
Maloney’s trap. 

For all God’s mercies, let’s be thankful for that,” 
said Aunt Horah. 

But Margot, as she watched them go and helped 
to throw slippers and rice after them, felt that she 
herself would prefer the little trap. 

The house is well quit of them,” whispered The 
Desmond; but Margot would not allow him to say 
these words aloud. 

It’s her wedding day; it has come a bit late, but 
let her be happy in it, granddad.” 

Right you are, my dove, my blossom;” and then 
they sat down—the old, old man, and the young 


A POUND A DAY-A PICTURE AND A WEDDING. 385 

child—to examine some flowers by the aid of a mi¬ 
croscope. 

All was indeed well in the heart of little Margot. 
She and her grandfather were in the midst of their 
game, and as a matter of fact, had forgotten ISTorah 
and her husband when Fergus came in. 

This is a lucky day in the Desmond family,” he 
said, and to complete it utterly, I think we ought 
to present little Margot with the deed of gift which 
will secure to her the Komney picture whenever you 
pass from this world to a better, dear sir.” 

Oh, I won’t take it if it means that/' said 
Margot. I want granddad to live forever and 
ever.” 

But I can’t do that, my child; no one can. You- 
are quite right, Fergus, my son. The Bomney is 
mine for my life, and I think my life will last for 
some time yet with such a little dear to put life and 
joy into it; but I should like to sign the document 
now to make all sure and safe. She is the little 
Romney, only just twice as beautiful. But we can 
have the deed signed at once, my son.” 

So the deed, which Margot did not in the least 
understand, was brought in by a very old man, who 
was a solicitor from the city of Cork; and a great 
many names were put in certain places, and the old 
Desmond signed his name, and Fergus Desmond his 


386 A POUND A DAY-A PICTUKE AND A WEDDING. 

name, and the little Margot was requested to write 
certain words in her clear, childish writing: 

I accept this picture as a most sacred gift when¬ 
ever my grandfather. The Desmond, goes up to God.’’ 

But the signing of this paper, coming on top of 
everything else, was almost too much for the sensi¬ 
tive child. She had to rush from the room to keep 
back her tears, for a Desmond, a proper Desmond, 
mush not cry. 

I tell you what, father,” said Fergus, I have 
been thinking that as I, too, shall never marry—for 
I don’t care for the colleens round this part—and so, 
in this case, I shall eventually leave Desmondstown 
to the little pushkeen, she might take back the name 
of Desmond, and if she marries, as marry she will 
some day, her husband must take the name with the 
property. Somehow, since she came to us everything 
has prospered in the most wonderful way, and I’m 
paying off the mortgages, and Desmondstown will 
be clear of all debt long before you die, father. 
What do you think of the little dear taking back the 
old name ? ” 

I say goroosh! I say hurrah! I say hip, hip, 
hurrah! I say Erin-go-bragh! I say the Desmonds 
forever; and beyond and above all other things, I 
say God bless the little Desmond, the future owner 
of the Komney. God bless and keep her forever! ” 


A POUND A DAY-^A PICTUKE AND A WEDDING. 387 

Granddad, what a noise you are making,” said 
Margot, coming in at that moment, having got over 
her tears. 

It was about you, my pushkeen. It^s all settled 
and you are to be a Desmond forever and forever 
and forever! ” 

Little Margot did not understand, but she was 
happy beyond words; and what could it matter about 
understanding when you are happy—too happy even 
to speak ? 


THE ENDo 


























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